A BOY OF THE 
FIRST EMPIRE 







ELBRIDGE S.BROOKS 



JVo. 




THE LIBRARY 

OF 

THE UNIVERSITY 
OF CALIFORNIA 

LOS ANGELES 

GIFT OF 

Ingle B arr 



ATI. 



A BOY 

OF 

THE FIRST EMPIRE 




'THEY RECOGNIZED PHILIP, AND STOPPED TO SPEAK WITH THE CHILDREN.' 
(SEE PAGE 94.) 



A BOY 

OF 

THE FIRST EMPIRE 



BY 



ELBRIDGE S. BROOKS 

AUTHOR OF "THE CENTURY BOOK FOR YOUNG AMERICANS," ETC. 




NEW YORK 

THE CENTURY CO. 

1895 



Copyright, 1894, l8 95. by 
THE CENTURY Co. 



THE DEVINNE PRES. 



CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

T. " UNCLE BIBICHE " 1 

II. A PRINCE OF THE SANS-CULOTTES 10 

III. THE SCHOOL-BOY OF ST. CYR 22 

IV. THE BALL AT THE EMBASSY 36 

V. IN THE STREET OF THE FIGHT 48 

VI. A Fuss WITH FOUCH 59 

VII. THE MISSION OF CITIZEN DAUNOU 76 

VIII. THE " COURIER OF THE KING " 93 

IX. " THAT PIG OF A PIERRE " 107 

X. THE TOWER OF ST. JACQUES 121 

XI. THE PUPILS OF THE GUARD 134 

XII. How PHILIP BAITED THE RUSSIAN BEAR 147 

XIII. WHAT MADEMOISELLE FOUND IN THE STREET OF 

ST. ANTHONY 157 

XIV. WHY PHILIP WAS MAD AT THE CLERK OF THE 

WEATHER 172 

XV. THE PRISONER OF FONTAINEBLEAU. 183 

XVI. FOR FRANCE 194 

XVII. BROTHER AND SISTER 208 

XVIII. " THE CLAWS OF THE CORSICAN " 221 

XIX. How THE SCHOOLBOYS FOUGHT AT PARIS 235 

XX. THE FALL OF THE TRICOLOR 249 

XXI. THE SWARMING OF THE BEES 262 

XXII. " INTO THE FURNACE-FLAME " 278 

XXIII. How PHILIP PLAYED THE STOWAWAY 293 

XXIV. THE CITY OF REFUGE 310 

vii 






LIST OF ILLUSTKATIONS 

PAGE 

THEY RECOGNIZED PHILIP, AND STOPPED TO SPEAK WITH 

THE CHILDREN FRONTISPIECE 

" UNCLE BIBICHE " 7 

" ' SEIZE THE ASSASSIN '" 12 

"'COME, YOU BOY; YOU ARE TO GO WITH us,' THE PO 
LICEMAN SAID " 19 

" THE EMPEROR'S FAMOUS CHAPEAU COVERING HIS CURLY 
HEAD, AND THE EMPEROR'S ' SWORD or MARENGO ' 

TRAILING ON THE FLOOR BEHIND HIM " 25 

CADET DESNOUETTES AND CORPORAL PEYROLLES. "'BE A 
SOLDIER OF FRANCE ! ' " 31 

" THE EMPRESS HELD OUT A HAND WHICH PHILIP LOY 
ALLY KISSED " 43 

PHILIP STRIKES UNCLE FAURIEL 57 

" 'I AM HAPPY TO BE NEAR YOU, SlRE,' SAID PHILIP" 65 

UNCLE FAURIEL SHAKES HIS FIST AT FOUCHE 69 

'"Go! YOU ARE DISMISSED FROM THE SERVICE OF THE 

EMPEROR ! ' " 74 

PHILIP RIDES ON THE STEP OF THE EMPRESS'S CARRIAGE. 81 

" ' THERE WAS BUT THIS BOY,' THE EMPEROR SAID" 87 

" ' I PRESENT TO YOU THE KlNG OF ROME ! ' " 97 

THE " COURIER OF THE KING " 101 

" ' MY FRIEND ! ' PHILIP CRIED, ' I OWE YOU MUCH ' " Ill 

" ' .GONE ! ' HE GASPED " 115 

" ' SAVE HIM, SIRE ! ' SHE EXCLAIMED " 125 

" THEN SHE TOLD HER STORY " 129 

PHILIP'S GRATITUDE 137 

ix 



x LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

NAPOLEON REVIEWS THE PUPILS OF THE GUARD 143 

PHILIP AND THE RUSSIAN AMBASSADOR 154 

"NAPOLEON PULLED THE PAGE'S HAIR VIGOROUSLY IN 

APPRECIATION OF THE JOKE " 164 

" ' WHAT is THAT, PIERRE ? ' SHE SAID, POINTING TO THE 

WORDS" 170 

"'STAND BACK, SIRS,' HE CRIED. "THIS is THE APART 
MENT OF THE EMPRESS ! ' " 179 

THE EMPEROR SAVES PHILIP FROM THE BOAR 191 

NAPOLEON'S VETERANS VIEWING THE PORTRAIT OF THE 

KING OF EOME 199 

" 'WHAT CAN YOUR MAJESTY MAKE OF SUCH A DANDY?'" 203 
" THE EYE OF THE EMPEROR, HE FELT, WAS UPON HIM " 217 
" HE SHOWED HER WHERE A TATAR ARROW HAD TORN 

AN UGLY HOLE " 225 

PHILIP TAKEN PRISONER BY THE COSSACKS 233 

PHILIP BEFORE MARSHAL BLUCHER. THE LETTER is 

FOUND 237 

CORPORAL PEYROLLES AND THE POLYTECHNIC BOYS FIGHT 
ING IN THE DEFENSE OF PARIS 245 

" THE EMPEROR PLACED A HAND UPON HIS HEAD " 257 

"'OFF WITH THE LILIES ON WITH THE BEES!'" 273 

THE EMPEROR DECORATES PHILIP WITH HIS OWN CROSS 

OF THE LEGION OF HONOR 276 

" ' RIDE LIKE THE WIND TO PARIS. TELL THEM THE BAT 
TLE is WON ' " 289 

" ' TO-MORROW YOU MAY BE AT SEA, SAFE UNDER THE 

AMERICAN FLAG ' " 297 

"'I WILL PUNISH YOU FOR THIS ! ' THE ENRAGED MARSHAL 

CRIED" 302 

DIVING DOWN INTO THE HOLD . , 307 



A BOY 

OF 

THE FIRST EMPIRE 



A BOY OF THE FIKST EMPIKE 



CHAPTER I 

"UNCLE BIBICHE" 

ON" a certain June morning in the year 1806, when the 
sunshine flooded all things, and every nightingale 
in France seemed practising for the post of court singer, 
a boy lay at the foot of one of the great chestnuts in the 
park of St. Cloud. 

He was small, disreputable-looking, and dilapidated, a 
tramp, and a ragged little tramp at that ; but his eye was 
bright and snappy ; his tangled hair, crowned with the 
wreck of a red liberty-cap, was thick and golden ; and his 
face, though it bore the stamp of poverty as it bore its 
crust of grime, had that careless, happy-go-lucky air that 
marks the street-boy of any great city. 

His restless eyes took in everything the noble park had 
to offer. He was evidently on the lookout for some place 
or some person. But, tired with his ten-mile tramp, and 
overpowered by the glorious solitude of all out-of-doors, 
burdened, also, with the weight of the important secret 
that had led him so far from his dingy home in the narrow 
Street of the Washerwomen, he had flung himself down at 



the foot of the great chestnut to talk it all over with him 
self, for want of a listening comrade. 

" My faith ! " he said, as he closed one eye and squinted 
the other along the fat tree-trunk and into the overarch 
ing branches, "but this is n't the Court of the Miracles 
now, nor yet the Street of the Washerwomen, is it ? What 
big trees ! What a lot of room ! Lonesome, though, I 
think, when the night comes down ; even the Street of the 
Washerwomen would be better than this, for there are 
plenty of people there, more than a plenty sometimes, 
especially when that pig of a Pierre comes shoving across 
the street to tease Babette and set my two fists a-going! 
But I like people. There 's more to see in a crowd of 
people than in a crowd of trees more to do, too. But 
here 's where the Little Corporal's big house is, somewhere 
among these trees. I wonder where ? I saw a pile of 
buildings on the hill farther along, as I came up here. 
Perhaps I can find the Emperor there. I must ; I must n't 
say what I came for to any one else. I wonder how one 
talks to an emperor ? Must I say ' Citizen Emperor,' or 
' Citizen Little Corporal,' or ' Citizen ' what ? I must find 
out before I get up to his house. I '11 have to ask some 
body. Pst ! There 's some one moving through those trees. 
Hi, there, Citizen ! No, it is n't a man ; it 's a boy. No, it 's 
a dog ; no, it 's a my faith, though! what can it be ? It 's 
not a dog, nor a horse, nor a pig, nor yet a it must be a 
sheep or a wolf. There 's another and another and 
more of them ; and a man, too. Perhaps they are wolves 
the beasts that Mother The"rese says eat you up in the forest. 
Perhaps they will eat the roan up. What fun ! I don't 



"UNCLE BIBICHE" 3 

want them to eat me, though. So ! I '11 slip behind this 
big tree, and see what is to be." And, suiting the action 
to the word, the boy, who, half raised from the ground, had 
been watching with wide-open eyes the moving figures, 
scrambled to his feet, and, sheltered behind the big chest 
nut, peered around the trunk, anxious to see what might 
be about to happen. For a boy of the Paris streets had but 
vague ideas as to the ways of forest life, and, though in 
quisitive, was cautious. 

Across the open space that lay between the wide avenue 
and the grove of stately chestnut-trees came the figure of a 
man, and at his heels, sniffing and thronging, moved the 
creatures that were so strange and inexplicable to the peeping 
city-boy a dozen of the tame Barbary antelopes of St. Cloud. 

They were dainty, timorous, graceful little beasts ; but 
desire had overcome timidity, and they trooped after the 
man, now crowding all about him, now starting back in 
alarm as he plunged his hand into his coat pocket ; but at 
him again they charged when his hand was withdrawn, and 
one and then another of the antelopes would thrust a brown 
muzzle into the extended hand, and, with sneeze and snort, 
lick up the powdery offering it held. 

The man was of medium height, long of body and short of 
legs, rather stout, but yet not fat. His age was less than 
forty; his face was fine and cleanly cut, though tanned by 
sun and weather. From his tumbled brown hair rose a plain 
cocked hat, set well forward on his large head. He wore a 
long and thin gray overcoat, and in the deep pockets lay the 
loose snuff, for a taste of which the thronging antelopes were 
nosing and pushing one another, eager for preference. 



4 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIKE 

The boy behind the tree gazed intently at the curious 
group that passed him, forgetting his own mission in the in 
terest it excited. Then, remembering his desire, he was 
about to call out "Hi, Citizen!" and ask how he could see 
and what he should call the Emperor, when through the 
trees came the shrill call of a child : 

"Uncle Bibiche, Uncle Bibiche oh, Uncle Bibiche!" 

The antelopes, startled by the call, stopped their nosing 
and pushing, and looked back in alarm; the man with the 
snuff in his overcoat pocket also looked back, and his face 
broke into a smile of welcome. 

" So, little pig ; it is you, then ? " he said. " Do you, too, 
wish the snuff? Come; come and catch us;" and he broke 
away in a run, followed by the trooping antelopes. 

" Wait, wait, Uncle Bibiche ; wait for Baby ! " the little 
runner panted. " Baby wants a ride." 

But as he hurried fast and faster after the runaways, his 
little foot caught in a half-exposed root ; he tripped and fell, 
rolling down the bit of bank where rose the great chestnut- 
tree behind which stood the boy from Paris. 

A cry of surprise that grew into the loud wail of grief 
broke from the sprawling one, and Uncle Bibiche turned 
quickly about and hurried toward him. But, before the man 
could reach the scene of disaster, the street-boy had darted 
from his hiding-place and picked up the prostrate baby. 

" Hi, there, little one ! Come up, come up," he said. "So ; 
you are not hurt now, are you?" and he brushed the dirt 
from the fine clothes of the child. 

Uncle Bibiche, too, dropped on his knees and drew an arm 
about the child, who, even in his grief, remembered the treat 



"UNCLE BIBICHE" 5 

he sought. "A ride Uncle Bibiche, I want a ride," 
he whimpered. 

" Yes, he shall have a ride, so he shall, sha'n't he, Citizen 
Uncle ? " said the street-boy, soothingly, still brushing away 
the dust. 

Uncle Bibiche turned a searching eye upon the speaker. 
" Well, boy, and how came you here ? Where did you drop 
from ?" he demanded. 

" Not from the sky, Citizen Uncle," the boy replied glibly. 
" I am of the city." 

" From the city ? Then how got you here ? " Uncle 
Bibiche asked. 

The boy laughed. " Why, Citizen Uncle, with the same 
horses the Emperor has to carry him Shank and Spindle ;" 
and he slapped each stout little leg in explanation. 

The man in the gray coat pulled the street-boy's tangled 
hair. "You 're a bold talker, you," he said. And the child, 
who had been peering into the dirty face of his rescuer, 
caught at the word "horses" and echoed them. 

" Baby wants horse, too ; carry Baby ! " he demanded. 

" Why, of course, little one ; I carry babies every day," the 
boy responded; and, catching up the child, he began to 
prance and trot with him, like a mettlesome charger. 

The baby laughed, and Uncle Bibiche laughed, flicking at 
the make-believe horse with his silk handkerchief as though 
it were a whip, whereupon the child repeated his demand : 
"Uncle Bibiche, Baby wants to ride sheep now," pointing 
toward the antelopes. 

" So ; I said they were sheep," the boy cried. " How do 
you ride them ? " 



6 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

" Uncle Bibiche knows. Let Baby ride sheep," the spoiled 
child clamored. 

" All right, Citizen Uncle ; he 's yours," and the boy set 
the little fellow on the ground. 

But the baby, grasping Uncle Bibiche's long coat with one 
hand, with the other clung to his new friend. " Let dirty 
boy go, too," he demanded. 

Uncle Bibiche plunged a hand into his capacious coat 
pocket and drew it out, filled with snuff, seeing which action 
the antelopes thronged about him again. Clapping a hand 
upon each of the child's shoulders, Uncle Bibiche lifted the 
small fellow from the ground and set him astride the back 
of one of the antelopes. 

" Steady him on the other side, you boy," said Uncle 
Bibiche. Then, with the street-boy holding him on one side 
and Uncle Bibiche on the other, the little rider laughed 
aloud in glee as, mounted on his queer steed, he rode along 
the broad, chestnut-bordered avenue of St. Cloud. 

But the boy from Paris could not long keep quiet. He 
remembered his errand, too. 

" Citizen Uncle," he said ; " might one see the Emperor ? " 

"Yes, one might," Uncle Bibiche replied. "For exam 
ple, you?" 

" For example, me," the boy declared. " I have business 
with him." 

At this Uncle Bibiche laughed loudly, whereupon the an 
telope-rider laughed, and the boy from Paris laughed too. 

"And what might be your business with the Emperor, 
bold one ? " Uncle Bibiche inquired. 

" That is for him to know," the boy answered. " But tell 



"UNCLE BIBICHE" 



us, Citizen Uncle ; what should one call him ? Should one 
say Citizen Emperor or Citizen Little Corporal or 
Citizen what ? " 




UNCLE BIBICHE. 



Uncle Bibiche looked across the antelope at his questioner. 
Then he said to the rider, who was kicking his small legs 
against the side of his uneasy steed, " Dirty boy wants to see 
the Emperor, little pig. What shall the boy call the Em 
peror, eh ? " 



8 A BOY OF THE FIEST EMPIRE 

" Call him Grandpapa," replied the little lad promptly, 
and then all three laughed gleefully again. 

" But it is not to be laughed at, my business, Citizen 
Uncle," the boy from Paris said soberly. " It is to save the 
Emperor's skin." 

" And from whom would you save his skin, you boy ? " 
Uncle Bibiche inquired. 

" That is our business, too mine and the Emperor's," 
said the boy, earnestly. 

"None may see the Emperor on business, here save 
those who tell their business before they see him," Uncle 
Bibiche explained. " Tell me your business, and I will get 
speech of the Emperor for you; for me he will sometimes 
hear. What would you say to him ? " 

The boy from Paris looked searchingly at Uncle Bibiche. 
Then he said : " Jacques has gone for a soldier ; Pierre has 
gone for a soldier. They will fight for the Little Corporal, 
and perhaps bring back the cross as did one-legged Antoine, 
who lives just beyond us in the Street of Jean Lantier. 
Perhaps if the Emperor hears what I have to tell him, he 
will let me go for a soldier, too. Citizen Uncle, let me see 
the Emperor." Then he lowered his voice : "A plot; I know 
of a plot against him. I would save his life." 

" A plot ? You know of a plot against the Emperor, you 
boy ? What is it ? Out with it ! " and the gray eyes looked 
sternly at the eager but ragged little petitioner on the other 
side of the antelope. " Do you speak truth, you boy ? " 

" Why should I lie ? " the boy said, meeting the sharp 
gray eyes without flinching. " I have walked from the 
Street of the Washerwomen for this not to lie to the 



"UNCLE BIBICHE" 9 

Emperor, Citizen Uncle, but to tell him what I know. 
Let me see him, then. Where is he ? " 

Uncle Bibiche caught the four-year-old rider from the 
antelope's back, and stood him on the ground. 

" Attention, comrade ! " he said, as if giving an order. 
" Who is the Emperor ? " 

And the little fellow, standing straight as a ramrod, 
brought his hand to his forehead in soldierly salute. 

" Uncle Bibiche ! " he said. 



CHAPTER II 

A PRINCE OF THE SANS-CULOTTES 

THE boy from Paris fell back in astonishment. Then 
he laughed in nervous dismay, and then in open 
distrust. 

" What ! Citizen Uncle the Emperor ? Come now, Baby, 
but that 's a good one ! Why, he 's not little ; he 's bigger 
than Jacques ; and they call the Emperor the Little Corporal ; 
and he marches about with his guards, and wears a gold 
crown on his head. And this one why, this is only just 
Uncle Bibiche. You 're playing the fool with us, you little 
one, are you not, now ? Come, then, if you but show me 
the way to the Emperor, I '11 give you the song and dance 
with which I pay my toll over the Little Bridge, when I 
go to the Isle of the City." And, catching the child by 
both hands, the boy from Paris whirled him about, and 
danced him around, capering like an imp, and singing the 
chorus : 

" Zig-zag ; rig-a-doon, 
So we dance to the drumstick's tune ! " 

It was great sport for the little four-year-old, though a 
trifle rough, perhaps. But he enjoyed it immensely. As 
for Uncle Bibiche, he laughed aloud and said, " You 're a 

10 



A PEINCE OF THE SANS-CULOTTES 11 

crazy one, you boy. You caper and sing like a carmagnole. 
Tell us, who are you ? " 

The boy stopped short in his mad dance, and a roguish 
twinkle made his eyes yet more snappy. 

"I, Citizen Uncle," he said, and here he clicked his 
heels together and brought his hand in salute to his shock 
of golden hair, just as he had seen his little playmate do, 
" I am a prince of the sans-culottes ! " 

Uncle Bibiche made a dash at the boy's ear and pinched 
it in high glee. " You 're a crazy one, you boy," he said 
again ; and then he added, " So, my children ! Here we 
have the royal family in council two princes and an em 
peror. Come, tell us your grand plot." 

The boy from Paris straightway became sober. "We 
are playing the fool too much, we three. Come, Uncle 
Bibiche, let me see this Emperor." 

" What ! do you not believe our little prince here ? " 
Uncle Bibiche said. " Trifler ! Must we prove him true ? " 

Then, taking a silver whistle from his pocket, he blew it 
loudly. Scarcely had the shrill call died away when two 
foresters, in a livery of green studded with golden bees, 
came swiftly beneath the great tree. 

" Where are the guard ? " Uncle Bibiche demanded. 

" Within call, Sire," one of the foresters replied. 

The boy from Paris started at the word, and looked 
sharply at the man in the gray overcoat. 

"Summon them, you," Uncle Bibiche said, whereupon 
one of the foresters darted up the avenue, and two long 
whistle-signals rang out beneath the trees. A moment 
later, and the measured rhythm of the double-quick sounded 



12 



A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 



on the hard road. Then, down the broad avenue, with a cor 
poral in the lead, came hurrying a file of the Grenadiers 
of the Guard. They stopped before Uncle Bibiche and 
presented arms. 




fa? 



' SEIZE THE ASSASSIN ! 



The boy from Paris began to feel uncomfortable. His 
mouth slowly opened ; he shifted uneasily from one foot 
to the other. But he stood it pluckily, eagerly watchful. 

" Corporal," said Uncle Bibiche, sharply, " is this the way 
to guard our park ? How do suspicious characters for 



A PEINCE OF THE SANS-CULOTTES 13 

example, this one," and he pointed an accusing finger at 
the boy from Paris " get within its limits ? " 

The corporal of the guard saluted. "The chief forester 
shall be asked, Sire," he said. " His men are not watchful. 
Meantime, are we to take this rascally one, Sire ? " 

The boy from Paris looked steadfastly on the man in the 
gray overcoat. Then came the order, " Seize the assassin ! " 
and still the boy did not flinch. 

"Assassin, Sire ? This puny one ? Has it come even 
to that ? " and the corporal's hand fell heavily upon the 
boy's shoulder. And still there came no word in denial 
or protest. 

But protest did come from another quarter. 

" Take your hands off my dirty boy ! " cried the Prince. 
"He picked me up; he held me on; he danced me about. 
I like him." 

The Emperor for such indeed was he whom the little 
four-year-old called "Uncle Bibiche" Napoleon, Emperor 
of France, whose summer palace was in this beautiful park 
of St. Cloud the Emperor smiled down upon the baby 
Prince. " Here is a bold champion," lie said. " Come, let 
the boy go, Corporal. He is Prince Napoleon's prisoner, 
and my word to you was to try his spirit. But bid the chief 
forester be more watchful. Withdraw ! " and he made a 
movement in dismissal. 

The corporal released his prisoner, saluted, and stepped 
back. 

As he did so the little Prince Napoleon the son of the 
Emperor's brother Louis, King of Holland, and his wife 
Hortense, daughter of the Empress Josephine grasped the 



14 A BOY OP THE FIRST EMPIRE 

arm of the boy from Paris, stood before the grenadiers, and 
raised his hand in salute to the Emperor. " Long live 
Grandpapa ! " he cried. The grenadiers presented arms, 
and, at the word from their corporal, wheeled about, and 
marched away. 

" Well, my prince of the sans-culottes, how now ? May 
I hear of your plot ? " the Emperor asked. 

" Citizen Sire," the boy from Paris replied, still a trifle 
perplexed. "I could not think you were the Little Cor 
the Emperor. I would not have danced so nor so have 
shaken up Prince Little One, here." 

" 'T was a good dance, and a healthy shaking up. Come 
the plot the plot," the Emperor said impatiently. 

Thereupon in straightforward way the boy from Paris 
told his story : How, in Citizen Popon's wine-shop, whither 
he had been sent by Mother Therese for the washing of the 
Citizeness Popon, he had (while hiding in a dark corner so 
that he might spring out upon young Victor Popon, with 
whom he was at feud) overheard a conversation between 
three men who sat at table close by, and how these three 
conspirators planned to meet that next night, at the stroke 
of nine, on the old Tower wharf, near to where the gate 
used to stand, to see the man from England, who had a 
plan to kill the Emperor, and fill all their pockets with gold. 
And this, the boy said, was all he had to tell, because, just 
then, young Victor Popon came hunting about for him, and 
he had dropped quickly to the floor and crawled noiselessly 
from his hiding-place, for fear Victor would come upon him 
there, and he, then, would be set upon by the three rascally 
ones. And when the next morning came, he had, because 




A PEINCE OF THE SANS-CULOTTES 15 

he had thought over the matter all night, hastened from his 
home in the Street of the Washerwomen straight to St. 
Cloud, to iind the Emperor, and tell him what he had 
heard ; because he had no wish that the Emperor should 
be killed ; besides, if they killed the Emperor, what chance 
would there be for one to enter the army, as Jacques and 
Pierre had done ? 

" And so you, too, would go for a soldier, you boy ? " the 
Emperor demanded, when the boy's story was told. 

"That would I, Citi Sire," the boy replied. "My father 
was a soldier, so Mother Therese says and says, too, for 
which I hate her, that he was an enemy of the people! 
and fought for the king, before the Terror." 

"An dmigrt, eh ! " exclaimed the Emperor, using the word 
by which were denoted those who, because they belonged to 
the royalist party in France, were compelled to " emigrate " 
or leave their homeland as exiles. "And what is your 
name, you boy ? " 

" The boys of our quarter call me 'mud prince' and 'little 
'ristocrat,' Sire," the boy from Paris made answer. " But I 
am Philip, the son of the dmigrd Desnouettes, who, in spite 
of the edict, came back to France when I was but a baby, 
and lost his head to sharp Madame Guillotine. I live with 
Mother Therese, and I tire of it all. If I am mud prince, 
as they call me, I am to be gold prince some day, so I tell 
Babette if but the Emperor will." 

" And who is Babette ? " 

"Oh, Babette is Mother Therese's little one, Sire, the 
only bright thing in our Street of the Washerwomen," 
young Philip replied. " I have to defend her against that 



16 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

pig of a Pierre over the way. He is ever teasing her, and 
I hate boys who worry those who cannot strike back." 

" A prince and a champion, eh ? " exclaimed the Emperor. 
"And you would be a soldier and fight for your emperor, 
even as your father fought for his king ? Well, perhaps if 
we could but have you washed, we might find something 
worth the training, under the dirt. It is on the old Tower 
wharf they are to meet the man from England. Was that 
what you said ? " 

"Yes, Sire, this very night at the stroke of nine 
near to where the old gate used to stand," the boy prompted, 
as the Emperor noted the* time upon the memorandum he 
had made; while little Prince Napoleon, tired of all this 
talk, tugged at the long gray overcoat, and renewed his 
demand: "A ride on sheep. Baby wants to ride again, 
Uncle Bibiche." 

But the antelopes, despairing of any further gifts of snuff, 
had long since trotted off, and " Uncle Bibiche " was occu 
pied with thoughts of other matters. 

His whistle-call sounded again, and once more the for 
esters appeared. 

" Take this boy to Monsieur Corson, clerk of the kitchen ; 
bid him give the little man a dinner and a gold napoleon ; 
afterward, see that he is returned to the city in a cab. And 
mind, you boy not a word of what you have told me to 
Mother Therese, nor to Babette." 

" Not even to Babette, Sire," the boy replied. 

" For the rest, I will make proof of your hearing, and, 
should your ears have done me service, they shall hear yet 
better things. Uncle Bibiche never forgets ; does he, Mon- 
seigneur Little One ? " 



A PRINCE OF THE SANS-CULOTTES 17 

But the baby Prince replied, as the Emperor caught him 
up, " Uncle Bibiche forgets Baby's ride." 

" So ! Does he ? Then shall he ride pickaback." And, 
swinging the child up to the imperial shoulders, the Em 
peror of France galloped off up the avenue with the son of 
the King of Holland. Then the boy from Paris followed 
the foresters to the clerk of the kitchen, and in the scullion's 
quarters had an excellent dinner, received a golden napo 
leon, and rode back like a prince to the narrow and dirty 
Street of the Washerwomen, in the slums of Paris. 

Here, however, trouble awaited him. The cab and the 
golden napoleon secured for him momentary glory, though 
his story that he had seen and talked with the Little Cor 
poral was openly scoffed at by all save Babette. 

Mother The'rese confiscated the napoleon, and regarded 
the cab as but the ending of only another of " that boy's 
scrapes," and prophesied, as indeed she generally did once a 
day, that he would come to no good end, for all her bringing 
up. But the boy held stoutly to his promise, and claimed 
only to have been to St. Cloud and to have talked with 
the Emperor. It must be admitted that he made the most 
of this; and, while his glittering story of princes and palaces 
found an absorbed and loyal listener in little Babette, the 
boys of the quarter made sport of it all as "one of the mud 
prince's fairy tales." They even went so far as to say that 
Philip had snatched the golden napoleon from some sight 
seeing countryman on the Boulevard, and that the police 
would be after him for it ; while as for the cab-ride, they 
declared that was in return for some job done for a driver 
who had more room in his cab than money in his pocket. 



18 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIEE 

That "pig of a Pierre over the way" stoutly asserted, 
indeed, that the mud prince was "in" with some of the light- 
fingered gentry of the Court of the Miracles near by, the 
thieves' quarter of old Paris, and would get "come up 
with" yet. This was the burden of Pierre's taunting song 
all that afternoon. It was renewed next morning, until "the 
prince" could stand it no longer, and a battle royal ensued 
by the little stone-coped fountain at the head of the Street 
of the Washerwomen. 

All the street gathered to witness the battle, and opinion 
differed as to its possible issue, for now Pierre and now "the 
prince" was down. 

But, just as Pierre had been thrown for the last time, and 
was about to admit his defeat, two gendarmes, or armed 
policemen, thrust their way through the crowd and "nabbed" 
the victor. 

"You boy, you live with Mother Therese, do you not?" 
one of the policemen inquired. 

" To be sure I do," the boy replied, looking defiantly on 
his questioner held to be a foe by every street-boy, as all 
policemen are. 

"You are Philip, son of the tmigrA Desnouettes, bound 
out to the citizeness Therese Eapin, laundress, of the Street 
of the Washerwomen ? " 

"As all the quarter knows, and you as well," Philip ad 
mitted without hesitation. 

The policeman turned to a grim man in plain clothes who 
stood close at hand. "This is our boy, Monsieur the Prefect. 
I thought I knew him." 

"Bring him along, then," the prefect commanded. 




"'COME, YOU BOY; YOU ARE TO GO WITH us," THE POLICBMAN SAID. 



A PEINCE OF THE SANS-CULOTTES 21 

"Come, you boy; you are to go with us," the policeman 
said. 

"But where and why?" Philip asked. 

"That you will know later," answered the officer. "Come." 
And with his hand on Philip's shoulder, he led the boy 
away, following the prefect and the other gendarme. 

Then, while one of the boys, proud to be the bearer of 
evil tidings, rushed- down the Street of the Washerwomen to 
notify Mother Therese of what had happened, and while 
Babette, seeing her only champion dragged away to prison, 
lifted up her voice in a long, loud wail of fear and sorrow, 
that "pig of a Pierre," rising from the scene of his defeat, 
danced the mad dance of joy and triumph, and, shaking his 
grimy fist at the retreating Philip, shouted after him : 

"Yah, mud prince, pickpocket ! Yah, I told you so ! " 

And it must be confessed that most of the quarter saw in 
this only the sequel to the golden napoleon and the "Em 
peror's cab" story, and echoed Pierre's unfriendly "I told 
you so ! " 

But Philip, marveling inwardly at his sudden and un 
looked-for taking off, went with his captors without word or 
question. "The time for talk is when the time arrives," he 
reasoned shrewdly. 

And so, speechless, he was marched away he knew not 
where nor why. 



CHAPTER III 

THE SCHOOL-BOY OF ST. CYR 

HE found out speedily. As they passed from the Street 
of the Washerwomen into the Street of the Night 
Patrol, and so on beside the ruins of the great castle, Philip 
thought they were taking him to the office of the chief of 
police in the splendid City Hall; but, passing the Square 
of the River Beach, upon which faced the statued front of 
the City Hall, the boy's conductors pushed ahead without 
stopping, cut across into the long Street of the Temple, and 
as before them loomed the four gray turrets and the great 
central tower, Philip knew his destination to be the gloomy 
old Temple itself the death-chamber of knights and kings. 

" Come, now, this is pleasant ! " he said to himself, won 
dering why they should take him there. "What am I, 
then ? He who picks a pocket or steals a ride is surely too 
small game for the Temple. It is there they take traitors 
and assassins. And, surely, I am neither." 

So, wondering still, he passed through the frowning gate 
way of the Temple, and speedily stood within one of the 
"examination chambers," in which were gathered certain 
men, some in uniform and some in citizen's dress. 

Then, indeed, did Philip give a start of surprise, and 
fathom the reason for his forced march ; for among those 

22 



THE SCHOOL-BOY OF ST. CYE 23 

gathered in the examination chamber he recognized at once 
" the three rascally ones " whom, in the wine-shop of Citizen 
Popon, he had heard conspiring against the Emperor. 

The boy was confronted with the men, and swore to their 
identity without hesitation. He could never have forgotten 
them. His testimony was almost unnecessary; for, so clev 
erly had they, with "the man from England," been en 
trapped upon the wharf of the Tower, that the police had 
a clear case against them from the start. But Philip's 
evidence was the connecting link, and the would-be assas 
sins of the Emperor came to speedy punishment. They 
simply " disappeared," so the record says : but that means a 
swift and secret punishment. And that is all we hear of 
the conspiracy of Louis Loizeau, " the man from England," 
whose plotting this boy of ten so cleverly brought to naught. 

His evidence thus given, the boy of ten came quickly into 
his reward. Under the guidance of an officer from the 
central police, he visited the shops in the straggling arcades 
of the old Temple market, and came out a new boy 
clean, clothed, and almost a stranger to himself, fit to call 
on the king. 

Such a call was, evidently, next on the program ; for soon 
a cab was whirling him, with many a twist and turn, through 
broad boulevard and narrow street, and so across the Seine 
into the open country and the smiling park of St. Cloud. 

This time he did not loiter under the great chestnut-trees, 
nor was he handed over to the clerk of the kitchen, nor left 
in the "scullion's quarters." Straight to the noble palace 
he was driven, and then, under the guidance of Constant, 
the Emperor's body-servant, he was led to the private apart- 



24 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

merits in the great palace of St. Cloud. And there, once 
more, he saw the Emperor. 

Before a closed door the valet stopped and rapped. Then 
he flung it open and announced : " The boy from Paris, Sire." 

Not in royal robes, nor yet in the glittering uniform of 
the chief soldier of France, did the boy from Paris find the 
Emperor. He simply saw " Uncle Bibiche " once more ! 
For there, pacing up and down the room, head bent and 
hands clasped behind his back, as if in thought, walked the 
short, stout man in a simple uniform. And strutting after 
him, almost on his heels, came the little four-year-old 
antelope-rider, with the Emperor's famous little chapeau 
covering his curly head, and the Emperor's terrible " sword 
of Marengo " trailing on the floor behind him. 

The "boy from Paris" entered the room. The Emperor 
looked up and, with a smile of surprise at the boy's altered 
appearance, exclaimed : " But not our dirty boy, little one ! 
Our prince of the sans-culottes looks as fine as a fiddler, 
does he not? How is it, son of the e'migrd? Is the mud 
prince on the road to being a gold prince ? " 

Even Philip's uncomfortableness in his new clothes an 
uncomfortableness that was almost an imprisonment after 
the liberty of rags, for it made him feel, as he expressed 
it, " all hands and feet " could not keep back the laugh 
that sprang from his quick sense of the ridiculous, at sight 
of Uncle Bibiche and the little caricature at his heels, bear 
ing the famous hat and sword. But he collected himself 
speedily, and replied to the imperial " funning." 

" I am come, Sire," he said, " because they sent me here. 
I thank you for my fine clothes." 



THE SCHOOL-BOY OF ST. CYE 27 

"As I thank you for your open ears, mud prince," re 
sponded the Emperor, giving to the boy's ear the pinch that 
was always the sign of Napoleon's good humor. " They may 
have saved my life, these ears ; though you will live to learn 
that it is one thing to plot and another to do. And what 
now would you still wish to go for a soldier ? " 

" If the Emperor will," the boy replied. 

" So ; that is what you told Babette. And how is Ba- 
bette ? " the Emperor asked. 

" Weeping sorely, Sire, because the policeman carried me 
off, just when I had knocked down that pig of a Pierre for 
calling me a pickpocket." 

" Ah, then you left the Street of the Washerwomen in 
disgrace, you boy ? So ! Then shall you go back there in 
glory. But not to stay there. Son of the dmigrt Desnou- 
ettes, I will make you a soldier of France." 

Overjoyed at this sudden coming true of his fondest 
dream, Philip fairly flung himself at the feet of the Emperor 
in a transport of joy, whereupon little Prince Napoleon, 
thinking the boy from Paris was there for his pleasure, 
danced about and said : 

" Sing ' Zig-zag ' again, Dirty Boy. Sing ' Zig-zag ' again." 

Philip struggled to his feet. " Shall I, Sire ? " and Napo 
leon nodded assent. 

Then around and around the room the boy and the baby 
capered, for thus could Philip best work off his excess of 
rapture. And, as they capered, they sang again the chorus : 

" Zig-zag ; rig-a-doon, 
Dance away to the drumstick's time ! " 



28 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

Suddenly Philip stopped. 

"And Babette, Sire ?" he inquired. 

"Well what of Babette?" said the Emperor. "She 
may not go as a soldier." 

" No, Sire. But I can look after her no more if I march 
away, and Mother Therese is a wicked one. And the Street 
of the Washerwomen is not for such as Babette. And the 
Emperor can do all things." 

" Not all things. But this he can do. He can send you 
to school, and then make you a soldier. He can send Ba 
bette to school, and then make her a lady or one fit to be 
a lady. She must not disgrace the prince, her champion. 
She, too, shall go to school." 

Again Philip could not restrain himself; and, in excess 
of joy, hugged his friend the little Prince, who still clung 
to his hand. 

" And am I to go now, Sire ? " he asked, after a moment. 

" It is never too early to begin the making of a soldier of 
France," the Emperor said. Then he clapped his hands, and 
Constant entered quickly. 

" Constant," the ' Emperor said, " find Monsieur Meneval. 
Bid him meet me in my cabinet." 

Then the Emperor left the two boys alone, and Philip 
told the little Prince stories of Babette and the boys of the 
washerwomen's quarter, while the little Prince recited for 
Philip one of La Fontaine's fables, many of which the bright 
little fellow knew by heart. 

But before he had gone through "King Log," Constant 
appeared again, and Philip was taken to the Emperor. 
With him was an officer of the household. 



THE SCHOOL-BOY OF ST. CYE 29 

"Go with Monsieur my secretary, young Desnouettes. 
He will conduct you to the Street of the Washerwomen, and 
change disgrace to honor. He will see to Babette. He will 
place you in the military school of Fontainebleau, now trans 
ferred to St. Cyr. There shall you learn a soldier's first 
duty obedience; a soldier's single watchward loyalty. 
Be studious, be attentive, be obedient, be loyal, be honorable, 
son of the 6migr4 Desnouettes, and your future may be a 
brilliant one. I shall hear of you. Farewell." 

He motioned the lad out ; but ere the boy turned to go, he 
stammered out words full of joy and thankfulness. "Sire," 
he said, "you shall hear of me. I will be true, and thank 
you for Babette." 

Then he followed Monsieur the Secretary, and was soon 
speeding away with him in one of the household carriages, 
on the panel of which was emblazoned the imperial "N." 

Straight to the dirty Street of the Washerwomen the car 
riage sped. And what a time there was in that dark and 
narrow quarter of the old city when the carriage drew up 
before the little coped fountain where " that pig of a Pierre" 
had shaken the fist of derision and contempt ! 

And when from the carriage stepped the boy in his new 
suit, with Monsieur the Emperor's secretary, and Monsieur 
the deputy mayor of the section (the alderman of the ward, 
as one might say), following after, then how the people 
stared ! 

And when Monsieur the deputy mayor in a loud voice 
announced that for gallant action and for loyal deed his im 
perial majesty the Emperor took into his service Philip, the 
son of the dmigrd Desnouettes, how the people cheered ! 



30 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

Then Mother Therese, that foxy old tyrant, "blessed the boy," 
and did not see how she could spare him, and took the 
purse of money the Emperor sent her, while "that pig of a 
Pierre over the way" turned so green with envy that Philip 
really felt sorry for him. 

And how little Babette laughed and cried in the same 
breath when Philip told her the Emperor had heard about 
her and meant to make a lady of her ! 

So it was soon over, for all the world like some wonderful 
fairy tale, and Philip Desnouettes, son of the dmigrt, bound 
boy of the washerwomen's quarter, protege of the Emperor, 
turned his back upon the narrow and dirty street he had 
once called his home, and, riding away from the past, was 
entered as a pupil in the military school of St. Cyr. 

From the day w r hen, as a new boy, he was introduced into 
the new school of St. Cyr, and was gradually transformed 
from an uncouth street-boy to a little machine, to the day 
when, four years later, he left it for other scenes, Philip 
Desnouettes's life was one of continuous training. He got 
up by the drum, he ate his meals by the drum, he went to 
bed by the drum. He learned to drill, to ride, and to build 
fortifications ; he received instruction in languages, literature, 
history, and mathematics; he toughened without fires, de 
veloped by austere discipline, lived by rule, played pranks 
and took his punishment as he did his medicine without 
grumbling ; he grew, strengthened, broadened in mind and 
body, learned to be a French school-boy, a French soldier, a 
French gentleman. 

Then came 1810. Great things had been happening while 
Philip was a school-boy at St. Cyr. The map of Europe 




CADET DESNOUETTES AND CORPORAL PEYROLLES. "'BE A SOLDIER OF FRANCE!" 



THE SCHOOL-BOY OF ST. CYR 33 

had been changed again and again, and Napoleon was the 
map-maker. There had been wars and rumors of war; there 
had been mighty marches, bloody battles, terrible triumphs ; 
and with march and battle and triumph the fame of Napo 
leon, Emperor of the French, had grown to mighty propor 
tions. In 1810 France and Napoleon were the greatest 
names in all the world. And Philip had met Corporal 
Peyrolles. 

Peyrolles, the wooden-legged, had left his good leg of flesh 
on the bloody field of Austerlitz, and, pensioned by the Em 
peror, had been made one of the drill-sergeants in St. Cyr 
school. 

To Peyrolles the Emperor was not a man, he was "the 
Emperor"; and Peyrolles worshiped him even as did the 
Romans of old worship their highest and bravest as some 
thing more than mortal. And yet the boys of St. Cyr de 
clared that but for Peyrolles the Emperor would never have 
been ; for it was Peyrolles's delight to recount for the boys 
of St. Cyr how "I and the Emperor" conquered the world! 

But it was largely by Peyrolles's friendly promptings, plus 
the instruction of the St. Cyr school, that Philip became pro 
ficient in drill and ambitious of glory. And when, even 
before the allotted term of training, the summons came to 
"the cadet Desnouettes" to attend upon the Emperor, the 
boy felt that both fame and glory lay well within his grasp. 

But Peyrolles said, " See what it is to have Corporal Pey 
rolles for your friend, cadet. Do you think it is because 
your sharp ears served the Emperor, when you were but a 
boy of the streets, that he now calls you to his side, even 
before your military schooling is done ? Not so. It is be- 



34 

cause of me. It is because Peyrolles has had you in hand. 
The Emperor has heard of it. He bids you come to him 
that you may show others in his service what it is to be 
tutored in arms by the man who helped the Emperor to win 
the day at Arcola and Lodi, at Castiglione and the Pyra 
mids, at Marengo and Ulm and Austerlitz. Long live the 
Emperor, and long live Peyrolles, his right hand ! Do not 
disgrace my teaching. You are but an infant yet, cadet. 
But so were we all once, and even a child can be brave. 
Listen, you cadet : rush not rashly into danger, but, once in, 
do not back out. Strike not until you can strike swift and 
sure. Obey, and you shall be obeyed ; follow, and you shall 
be followed ; seek glory, and glory shall seek you. Be a 
soldier of France, and France shall be proud of her soldier, 
and shall say to the world : ' Behold, this cadet was a pu 
pil, of Peyrolles of St. Cyr, grenadier and helper of the 
Emperor !' " 

So Philip left St. Cyr and reported at the Tuileries, that 
noble old palace in the city, whose story is interwoven with 
that of France's ups and downs through fully three hundred 
years. 

And in Napoleon's private study, beyond the Diana Gal 
lery and next to the Blue Room, Philip once more saluted 
the Emperor. 

" So, it is young Desnouettes, the boy with the good ears," 
was the Emperor's greeting. " Have both eyes and ears 
served you well at St. Cyr, you cadet ? You look a little 
soldier already. Are you prepared to march and to fight ? " 

" Yes, Sire for the Emperor," the boy replied shrewdly. 

" Good " ; and Napoleon pulled the cadet's hair good- 



THE SCHOOL-BOY OF ST. CYR 35 

humoredly. " But these are no longer days of blood. The 
empire is at peace. I have sent for you to serve here at 
court. Take your orders from the Baron de Meneval. From 
this day you are a page of the palace." 



CHAPTEE IV 

THE BALL AT THE EMBASSY 

IT was a new life into which this imperial appointment 
plunged the active boy of fourteen. It was discipline, 
and yet it was delightful; it was slavery, and yet it was 
splendor ; there was labor to tire both feet and brain ; there 
were long hours of monotony, but many opportunities for 
pranks and frolics. It was run here and run there; it was 
do this and do that ; it was not soldiering, and yet it had 
its conflicts ; it was not a call for courage, and yet it was 
duty joined to temptation and tried by opportunity. The 
life of a page of the palace was not all play, though passed 
in the midst of splendor ; nor was it all dignity, though 
spent in a constant round of fete and ceremonial. 

And into fete and ceremonial young Philip Desnouettes 
was speedily introduced. It was the year 1810. In that 
year Napoleon the Emperor married the Archduchess of 
Austria. The son of -a poor Corsican office-seeker wedded 
the daughter of the Austrian Csesars. It was a year of bril 
liancy, of excitement, of restless rounds of display and con 
stant repetitions of marvelous entertainments. 

Never was a boy of fourteen surrounded by more of glitter, 
or permitted to be a part of more royal "goings on." All this 
might ruin a boy of weak nature ; but Philip was blessed 

36 



THE BALL AT THE EMBASSY 37 

with a cool head, a well-balanced mind, and much common 
sense. He had "cut his wisdom-teeth" as a street-boy of 
Paris; he had learned discipline in the school of St. Cyr; 
and so, though often sorely tried and many a time in scrapes 
and in disgrace, he was too manly a fellow to " lose his 
head." He was therefore really developed alike by the 
temptations and by the duties that filled his daily life in those 
most brilliant surroundings the court of the First Empire. 

As page of the palace, he was on duty both at the splen 
did Tuileries and at beautiful St. Cloud. And through the 
month of March there was enough afoot in both these great 
palaces to tire any ordinary boy, and keep his head buzzing 
with bewilderment. For then it was that Paris and the pal 
aces were making ready for the reception of the new mistress 
of France, the girl Empress, Marie Louise, Archduchess of 
Austria. 

Philip could not understand it all. Austria had been " a 
red rag " to every French boy since the days of Marie An 
toinette. And at St. Cyr Philip had been brought up to 
hate the Austrians, with whom the Emperor was so often at 
war, and whom, three times, he had faced and conquered. 

" I would like to know what Peyrolles thinks of this," he 
often said to himself. " The Emperor marry an Austrian ? 
Well, for one, I can't see through it ! " 

But what of that ? No boy of fourteen gives much 
thought to political right or wrong, or wastes time over the 
policy of kings and cabinets. Only the events that bring 
him opportunity, or the doings that mean excitement and 
fun, arouse in him anticipation and desire. 

He ran here and he ran there ; he fetched and he carried ; 



38 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIEE 

he rehearsed for ceremonies and waited for orders at palace 
doors ; he " bossed things " whenever he had a little brief 
authority ; he did the thousand and one " chores " that are 
a part of the duties of a royal page, who is above servants in 
station and below officials in rank. The Grand Marshal of 
the Palace, the Chief Secretary to the Emperor, the First 
Gentleman in Waiting, the First Page of the Palace, arid, first 
of all, the Emperor himself these were the boy's masters. 
As became a royal page, he ignored all others, and gave 
himself airs whenever he was beyond the beck and call of 
his acknowledged superiors. 

Fete crowned fete, and ceremony ceremony. By stately 
stages, from Vienna on to Paris, the Austrian princess came 
to her throne, escorted by peers of France, and surrounded 
by all the pomp and power of this theatrical First Empire. 
Then Napoleon met her; and on a bright April day she 
entered Paris in a blaze of glory. 

And Philip entered, too, so spick and span in a new and 
gorgeous livery that he felt certain all eyes must be looking 
at him quite as much as at any one who had a place in that 
long and glittering procession escorting Napoleon and Louise 
from St. Cloud to the Tuileries. 

And where do you think the boy was ? Clinging with 
five other pages, for all the world as if they were " cutting 
behind," to the foot-board of the magnificent coronation coach 
of glass and gold in which sat the Emperor and Empress. 
For there, according to the etiquette that governed the impe 
rial " show," was the place for the pages, while as many more 
hung on to the driver's seat ; and I really believe the boys 
and sirls of Paris thought it almost as fine to be one of those 



THE BALL AT THE EMBASSY 39 

clinging pages as to be the Emperor in his cloak of red and 
white velvet, or the Empress by his side, glittering in her 
golden dress and her circlet of diamonds. I am sure Babette 
thought so, when she spied Philip. For Babette was one of 
the throng of little girls, dressed in white, who at the Arch 
of Triumph showered the coronation coach with flowers, and 
sang a welcome to the new Empress. 

So, under great arches and along the crowded streets, 
which were gorgeously decorated and lined with tiers of seats 
built for the people, with the imperial cavalry in advance, 
with lancers and chasseurs and dragoons marching in splen 
did array, with bands playing their best, with heralds-at- 
arms in brilliant costumes, and with eight prancing horses 
drawing the coronation coach topped with its golden dome, 
its four spread eagles, and its imperial crown, Philip and the 
Emperor brought the girl Empress into Paris. 

The bells rang merrily, the artillery thundered salutes, the 
picked soldiers of the Grand Army in double files along the 
route presented arms, the young girls strewed the way with 
flowers, the great marshals of France and the colonels of the 
Imperial Guard, mounted on their splendid horses, sur 
rounded the glittering coach. Thus, up the shouting Champs 
Elysees, real "Fields of Paradise" that day, and under 
the great arch into the Tuileries gardens, this splendid pro 
cession moved to where, in the magnificent Square Room 
of the palace of the Tuileries, Napoleon and Louise, sur 
rounded by kings and queens, by lords and ladies, by car 
dinals and priests, and in the presence of eight thousand 
invited guests, were married by the Cardinal Fesch, Grand 
Almoner of France and uncle of the Emperor. 



40 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

It was a regal display, one of the few really gorgeous cere 
monials of history. Not the least interested spectator was 
young Philip Desnouettes, as, with the throng of royal pages, 
he crowded upon the steps that led to the great platform on 
which the marriage ceremony took place. Then followed 
the promenade in the picture-gallery, the reception in the 
splendid Hall of the Marshals, the imperial banquet in the 
theater, the public concert in the vast amphitheater built in 
the Tuileries gardens, the fireworks all along the Champs 
Elysees, the illumination of the Tuileries and of the great 
avenues and -bridges and buildings of the city, which blazed 
with light until, as Philip declared, "all Paris seemed on fire." 

He missed a part of the show, however, because he had a 
special duty to perform. He had to keep a dog from barking. 

Into a room of the Tuileries he had been introduced by 
young Master Malvirade, the very important First Page to 
the Emperor, and had been ordered to wait there until 
relieved. 

"There 's a dog in here," the First Page had told him, 
"and a parrot. See to it, young Desnouettes, that the dog 
does not bark, nor the parrot squawk." 

Here was a nice job for a boy who wished to see the fire 
works! Philip was almost tempted to rebel; but he had 
been trained to obey, and he said not a word. 

The room was at the end of a long corridor that was 
narrow and dimly lighted, but in the room itself there was a 
blaze of light from many lamps and candles. Philip had 
never seen this room before, and looked at it critically. It 
was clearly not a state apartment; it was more homelike 
than handsome. There were drawings and paintings on the 



THE BALL AT THE EMBASSY 41 

walls, the furniture was not new, and certainly not Paris- 
made. Here hung some tapestry- work ; there, birds in cages. 
On a gilded perch a great green parrot was clawing and 
shifting, cocking one bright eye down at a little dog crouched 
on a rug below him. It was this dog and this parrot that 
Philip was to keep quiet. 

He waited some time. The cheers of the crowd in the 
garden and the sounds of the great chorus at the open-air 
concert came, muffled, to his ears. The parrot was uneasy; 
the dog was restless; so, too, was Philip, and he grumbled 
inwardly at his imprisonment; but, all the same, he did his 
duty, petted the dog, and soothed "poor Polly" with promises 
of make-believe crackers. 

At last he heard steps coming along the corridor. The 
parrot cocked its head to listen; the dog started up and 
tried to "woof," but Philip's hand smothered the incipient 
bark. 

The door opened, and a lady entered. She was young, 
scarcely more than a girl, but she was splendidly dressed, 
and her face was pretty and pleasant. 

She stopped, blinded at first by the flood of light after the 
dimness of the corridor. Then she looked about her, started 
suddenly, and as the dog, with a bark and a struggle, broke 
away from Philip and sprang toward her, she dropped on 
her knees, regardless of her splendid dress, and fondled the 
dog with a cry of joy. 

"Why, it is my room!" she cried, looking about in be 
wilderment, "my own room at Vienna! The very same 
carpet, the very same chairs, my sister Clementine's draw 
ings, my mother's tapestry, my uncle Charles's paintings, my 



42 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

books, my birds Polly and you you dear, dear Fritz- 
kin ! " here she hugged the little dog again. Then she sprang 
to her feet, and, saying impulsively, " Oh, Sire, how kind you 
are!" flung her arms about the neck of the gentleman who 
had followed her into the room, a short, stout middle-aged 
gentleman, with a splendid court costume, and a handsome 
face that sparkled with pleasure at the success of his little 
plot. It was Napoleon, and this was his surprise to his girl 
wife. He had reproduced in the Tuileries the room she had 
tearfully said good-by to in her father's palace at Vienna ; 
he had remembered everything even to the dog and the 
parrot that were her especial pets. 

It was such a successful surprise that fun-loving Philip 
could not keep back the smile of sympathy. 

"So, it is you, young Desnouettes; you are the genie in 
charge, eh?" the Emperor said. "Louise, this page once 
saved my life from plotters; and now, behold! he is in a 
plot against the Empress. There 's gratitude for you ! " 

The girl Empress cast a bright, quick look of pleasure at 
the kneeling boy, and held out to him a hand which Philip 
loyally kissed, swearing fealty to her in his chivalrous young 
heart. And the Empress never forgot him, amid all the 
strange faces and crowding scenes of her new life as a 
sovereign. 

Through the spring and into the summer these faces and 
scenes thronged, one upon the other, in quick succession. 
In April the Emperor and Empress, on their wedding jour 
ney, made " a progress " through northern France ; during 
May and June festivity followed festivity in Paris, so closely 
and with such grandeur that Philip really grew weary of 




'THE EMPRESS HELD OUT A HAND WHICH PHILIP LOYALLY KISSED. 



THE BALL AT THE EMBASSY 45 

magnificence. Finally, on the first day of July, came the 
conclusion of this series of grand entertainments in honor 
of the Emperor and Empress the ball at the Austrian 
Embassy. 

In his fine old mansion on the Street of Provence, some 
times known as Hospital Road, and sometimes known 
as the Street of the Crooked Stocking, the Austrian am 
bassador, Prince Schwarzenberg, gave a great ball. The 
house was not large enough for the entertainment he wished 
to give, so in his garden he built, " for one night only," a 
great wooden ball-room. 

It was so splendidly decorated and furnished that it 
looked like a fairy palace. Its walls were covered with 
gold and silver brocade ; draperies of spangled gauze were 
festooned all about it, fastened with flowers and glittering 
ornaments ; while lights from chandeliers and candelabra 
made the great ball-room as brilliant as day. 

The guests entered this splendid " palace for a night " 
through a long gallery that connected it with the mansion. 
Musicians played in the Court of Honor; grottoes and 
arbors and temples were scattered all about the garden ; on 
the lawn brilliantly costumed dancers took part in a delight 
ful spectacle, and in the ball-room itself nearly two thou 
sand people began to dance at midnight. 

Philip was there, too semi-officially on duty as a royal 
page, but also in for a good time as a guest of the am 
bassador. 

He was having such a good time ! There were plenty of 
young people there ; and though, of course, the pages could 
hardly be expected to dance in the great ball-room, the boys 



46 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

found partners somehow, as boys are wont to do when such 
a fine chance for a dance occurs. To the same music that 
guided the grand quadrille in the ball-room, the boys and 
girls started an impromptu quadrille on the lawn, and had, 
no doubt, a much better time than the great folks at the 
stately function inside. 

Philip found himself dancing with a pretty girl of about 
his own age, whose name he failed to gatch in the hurried 
introduction that made her his partner; but they enjoyed 
their dance quite as much as if they had always known each 
other. And when the first quadrille was over, the boys and 
girls crowded into the big ball-room to see the Emperor 
make his progress through the room, and to watch the 
young Empress as, throned on the imperial platform, she 
talked with two queens and a king or two. 

In the Court of Honor the trumpets sounded a flourish ; 
in the Temple of Glory a song of triumph was being sung ; 
everything was brightness and beauty and gaiety and bril 
liancy, when, suddenly, Philip saw several gentlemen dash 
into the throng ; then he heard a shout of warning, a note 
of terror ; there came another rush, and above the flour 
ish of the trumpets and the voices of the singers rang out 
the cry : 

" Fire, fire ! the ball-room is on fire !" 

It was no false alarm. The draperies caught quickly ; 
the hangings burst into a blaze ; there was a mad race for 
the one doorway that led into the house, and everywhere 
were confusion, terror, and a desperate dash for life. 

Philip caught by the arm the young girl with whom he 
had been dancing on the lawn. 



THE BALL AT THE EMBASSY 47 

"Quick, give me your hand, mademoiselle!" he cried; 
" trust me, and I will save you. The garden is our best 
chance." 

But the girl seemed dazed. " My father ! where is my 
father ? " she cried. " Oh, find my father ! " 

Philip was as wiry as he was plucky and sturdy, but an 
excited crowd in a blazing ball-room knows neither courage 
nor courtesy where all are struggling to escape. 

Even as he lost his hold of the girl's arm when she sought 
to dart off in another direction, the splendidly dressed mob 
surged in between, and, separating the two, flung the boy 
to the floor, where he lay, trampled upon and kicked about 
in this mad rush for safety. 

And, as he fell, he heard above the uproar the terrible 
danger-call : " A plot, a plot ! Frenchmen, defend your 
Emperor ! " 



CHAPTER V 

IN THE STREET OF THE FIGHT 

TWISTING and squirming with a persistency that would 
do credit to a modern foot-ball scrimmage, Philip 
wriggled his way from beneath those trampling feet, and at 
last stood erect battered, but whole. 

He looked about him for an instant, striving to catch his 
breath and get his bearings. It was a scene of terror and 
despair. The great room was thick with smoke, the flames 
were already roaring up to the roof, and seemed to burst 
from the house with which the ball-room was connected. 
Cries and shrieks filled the air. There is nothing more 
terrible than a mob gone mad with fright and fear. In this 
one were displayed those tragic and ludicrous phases of ex 
citable human nature, which so often loses its head in great 
crises, and does so many ridiculous things. 

Some, however, kept their wits about them, and worked 
like Trojans. By dint of much labor they cleared the 
blocked doorway, and hurried the throng into the garden 
and the street beyond. About the Emperor, Philip saw a 
ring of the officers of the Imperial Guard, who with drawn 
swords kept the surging mob at bay, while he heard above 
the turmoil the voice of the Austrian ambassador shouting 

48 



IN THE STREET OF THE FIGHT 49 

to Napoleon, "My life for yours, Sire ! If this is a plot, it 
shall strike me dead before it touches you ! " 

And on the imperial platform, calmly seated on the throne, 
Philip, with a flush of pride in her courage, saw the girl 
Empress, the coolest one in all that excited crowd, quietly 
awaiting the word of her husband, the Emperor, to leave the 
place with him. 

There was no plot. The fire was but a fearful accident 
that was to wreck the beautiful building and bring death to 
many homes. Assured of this, Napoleon worked his way to 
the platform, took the Empress by the hand, hurried into 
the garden, and, placing her in a carriage which Philip had 
found for him, sent his wife in safety to St. Cloud. Then he 
returned to the scene of disaster, and, in the same spirit of 
command that made so many of his battles victories, worked 
amid ruin and smoke to save life and property. 

Philip worked too. As excited and omnipresent, and 
probably quite as much in the way, as a boy always is at a 
big fire, he rushed hither and thither, helping and hindering 
alike, but anxious above all things to find the pretty little 
partner who had been swept from his side when the rush 
had overthrown and trampled him under foot. 

He feared the worst. How could any girl escape what a 
boy had been unable to withstand ? Burning beams were 
falling; now an overcrowded staircase gave way and col 
lapsed ; now the great chandelier came crashing down ; the 
lost were crying; the wounded were calling for help, and a 
sudden storm bursting upon the doomed building fanned the 
flames into a roaring blaze. 

Rushing along one of the garden walks, determined to 



50 A BOY OP THE FIRST EMPIRE 

search everywhere for the missing girl, Philip stumbled into 
a half-concealed grotto in which a band of musicians had 
been stationed for an outdoor concert. There, in the wreck 
age of overturned music-racks and forsaken instruments, 
Philip saw the body of a young girl. It was she whom he 
sought. Overcome by the smoke, or by the fright and 
frenzy of the stampede, she had evidently found a place of 
refuge and then comfortably fainted. 

Of course Philip thought she was dead. " Oh, Made 
moiselle ! " he cried in despair. 

But even as he raised her up, she recovered consciousness, 
looked about her dazed, and then called, " Father ! Oh, take 
me to my father ! " 

Philip recalled the stories of Bayard and Roland, and all 
the gallant knights of old who had succored maidens in dis 
tress. Here, now, was his chance to show himself a true 
chevalier. 

" Mademoiselle, let me take you home," he said. " Your 
father is there, no doubt." 

Still weak from her fall and fright, the girl leaned upon 
her protector, and they made their way through the garden 
to the street. A tardy fire-engine, as clumsy as it was use 
less, rolled lumbering up to the gateway, and Philip drew the 
girl aside to avoid a collision with the excited crowd that 
came with it. 

Suddenly the girl gave a cry of joy. 

" Father, father ! " she called shrilly ; and, breaking from 
her conductor's side, she sprang into the arms of a gentle 
man whose look of mingled misery and perplexity changed 
swiftly into one of relief and joy as he clasped the girl in a 



IN THE STREET OF THE FIGHT 51 

welcome that was also protection. Then they turned, and 
before Philip could reach them they had hurried through 
the gateway, and were lost in the crowd and the darkness. 

"Well," said Philip, just a trifle chagrined at this unex 
pected ending to his attempt at knight-errantry, "she is 
safe, no doubt. If one might have known her name ! I 
wonder who she is ? " 

Then, finding that some order was coming out of the 
chaos of disaster, and that the firemen, the soldiers, and the 
armed police had taken matters in charge, Philip concluded 
there was no more to be seen. Wet and smoky, disheveled 
and torn, he started for the Tuileries ; but as he crossed the 
square near the Vendome Column he spied a carriage with 
pages on the box pushing its way through the crowd. 

" Holo you ! To St. Cloud ? " he shouted in inquiry. 
And a chorus of pages replied : 

" To St. Cloud, yes ! Where have you tumbled from, dis 
reputable one ? Come along, my Lord Mud and Soot ! 
Climb up here, young Desnouettes." Philip clambered up 
without even stopping the coach, and, squeezing himself in 
among the pages, was soon chattering and clattering away to 
St. Cloud and a brief night's rest. 

Early next morning, by order of the Emperor, he hurried 
to the Embassy for the latest news. He brought back sorry 
tidings. The destruction of the mansion was complete. 
Many had been injured ; some had been killed outright, or 
had since died. Altogether it was a -tragic ending to what 
had promised to be a brilliant affair. 

But those were days when people were all too familiar 
with disaster and death. Crowding events pushed past 



52 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

happenings out of mind. Napoleon wished his court to be 
both gay and glorious, and disaster must never be mentioned. 

So the fatal ball at the Embassy was forgotten, save by 
those who had experienced its terrors, either to their own 
hurt or in the injury or loss of those who were dear to them. 
The coming of new glories gave a fresh current to thought, 
while new happenings occupied young and old, rich and poor, 
in Paris. 

Once a week, when off duty for a few hours, Philip always 
went to see Babette. He took as much interest in her edu 
cation and progress as if he were indeed her guardian, and 
the sisters of the convent school in the Street of the Old 
Pigeon-House (or, as they called it in Paris, the Rue du 
Vieux-Colombier) welcomed the bright boy with smiles, and 
allowed him a generous half-hour's interview in the conver 
sation room. 

There was enough of the street-boy nature remaining in 
Philip to make him like to "prowl"; and in these walks to 
see Babette in the Street of the Old Pigeon-House, the young 
page of the palace would, therefore, often make roundabout 
journeys. He stumbled into all sorts of out-of-the-way 
places, ran all sorts of risks, but never fell into any real 
danger, though there was plenty of it beneath the surface 
life in the Paris of those days. 

It was while on one of his " prowls," one afternoon, when 
he had been to visit Babette, that he was strolling leisurely 
along the Street of the Fight (known to Parisians as the 
Rue de Melee), one of the very quietest and quaintest of the 
streets of the old city, when he was attracted by a tug of 
war between two hostile sparrows which were struggling for 



IN THE STREET OF THE FIGHT 53 

a tough straw that both seemed equally to fancy for nest- 
repairing. 

The sparrows pulled and tugged and fluttered so vigor 
ously that Philip, always alive to the humorous side of 
things, leaned against the nearest fence-rail and watched the 
equal match. 

"Perhaps that 's why they call this the Fight Street," he 
was just saying to himself, when he felt a touch on his shoul 
der. Looking up, he saw a decent-looking house-servant. 

" Will Monsieur enter ? " the man said. " Mademoiselle 
receives." 

Philip looked puzzled. " Mademoiselle ?" he queried. 

" Yes, Monsieur," the footman explained ; " the Citizen 
Keeper's daughter. She saw you from the window, and her 
father, the Keeper, sends me to bid you enter. To-day 
Mademoiselle receives." 

Philip looked closely at the house. He was certain he 
had never seen it before. 

" But," he began, " I do not know Mademoiselle." 

At that instant a tall, scholarly-looking gentleman came 
through the open doorway and stood beside him. 

"Oh, but you do, my boy," he said, breaking in upon 
Philip's uncertainty. " Enter, I beg, and see for yourself." 

The gentleman was so distinguished in appearance, and he 
laid so friendly a hand upon the page's shoulder, that Philip 
flung hesitation to the winds and willingly entered the house. 

The footman lifted a heavy curtain, and Philip stood within 
a neat drawing-room furnished in the simple style of the 
Eevolution. A young girl came quickly forward from a 
group of people. 



54 A BOY OF THE FIEST EMPIRE 

"I am so glad you came in," she said impulsively. "I 
saw you from the window, and knew you at once." 

Philip looked closely at the speaker. In an instant it was 
all clear to him. " Mademoiselle " was his partner in the 
quadrille on the lawn -the girl he had rescued from the 
grotto that fatal night of the ball at the Embassy. 

He bent low over her extended hand, for thus were boys 
of those days taught to " make their manners " to ladies. 

" Mademoiselle is very kind," he said. 

The girl laughed merrily at this stately politeness, and, 
making up for the forgotten ceremony with which she should 
have greeted him after the fashion of the day, she courtesied 
deeply in acknowledgment. Then she laughed again joy 
fully and unaffectedly. 

" Did you not think us most ungrateful, we two my 
father and I," she said, " that we should have so rushed 
away from you that dreadful night ? But my father why, 
where is he ? See, my father, was I not right ? it was our 
benefactor." 

Philip's conductor gave him a cordial smile of welcome. 
He took both the lad's hands in his. "My best of boys," 
he cried, " how proud I am to see you here ! We have 
long wished we two thoughtless ones to learn who was 
the brave young gentleman who united us that dreadful 
night 

" When we lost our schottische," interrupted Mademoi 
selle. " Do you not remember that was next to come when 
the wreaths caught fire ? " 

" And such a charming schottische as it would have been," 
said Philip gallantly. 



IN THE STEEET OF THE FIGHT 55 

" Let me make you known to our friends," said the master 
of the house, as he took the boy's arm and hurried him 
toward the waiting group. " My friends," he said, " let me 
present to you 

Here his daughter again interrupted him. " But, papa," 
she cried, " we do not know Monsieur's name nor does he 
know ours. Is it not droll ? " 

" So ! the little one is right," said the introducer, with a 
laugh. " Permit me, Monsieur. We are the household of 
Daunou, Keeper of the Archives. I am the Keeper. Made 
moiselle here is my dear daughter Lucie. And you ? " 

" I, Monsieur the Keeper," replied the boy, " am Philip 
Desnouettes, one of the pages to the Emperor." 

" Ha, that Corsican ! " The exclamation came from a 
little fat man of middle age and fierce face, who stood at 
the elbow of Monsieur the Keeper of the Archives. 

Philip fired up in an instant. 

" Sir, I said the Emperor ! " he exclaimed, a flush of sur 
prise and anger mantling his face. 

" Pouf, pouf ! What a young game-cock it is ! How 
hot we are ! And is he not a Corsican ? " the fat man 
fumed. 

But the Keeper of the Archives clapped a hand over the 
offending mouth. " Be quiet, Fauriel," he said. " Monsieur 
the Page is my guest, and such words are not for him. We 
all have our preferences and our loyalties. Desnouettes, did 
you say, my boy ? " 

" Yes, Monsieur ; Philip Desnouettes," the boy replied. 

" The name has a familiar sound," said the Keeper. 
" Your father ? " 



56 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

"An emigrt, Monsieur," the boy answered. "Executed in 
1796 for not leaving France when the nobles were that year 
expelled." 

" What, you boy ! " Fauriel the fat broke in ; " your father 
a martyr, and you a slave of the Corsican ! " 

" Sir, my Emperor was not the murderer of my father ; he 
has been my protector," Philip began, hotly. But the other 
broke in quite as hotly. 

"Pouf! a fine protector, he! A wolf shielding the 
lambs ! Whom has he protected ? Has he not enslaved, 
has he not juggled with has he not 

" But, papa," Mademoiselle cried appealingly, " do I re 
ceive, or does Uncle Fauriel ? Tell him he shall not spoil 
my day with his hateful politics. See, Monsieur Philip is 
very angry, and so am I." 

The Keeper of the Archives laughed aloud. "Do not 
mind him, Monsieur the Page," he said ; " this is a little pot 
and soon heated. There, there, Fauriel, do not get angry; 
you know your bark is worse than your bite. Let him 
alone ; he is but a boy. What should he care for your 
tirades, except perhaps to love his Emperor the more and 
regard you the less ? " 

" But our boys are the Frenchmen of the future, Daunou," 
the little man replied. " I am angered to see them wor 
shiping at the shrine of the Corsican this Nicholas, 1 this 
little beast, this 

" Sir ! " Philip shouted. 

" Uncle ! Papa ! " Mademoiselle protested. But, almost 
before he knew what he was doing, the angry page of the 

1 One of the Parisian nicknames of Napoleon. 



IN THE STREET OF THE FIGHT 



57 




PHILIP STRIKES UNCLE FAURIEL. 



palace sprang at the detractor of his Emperor and thumped 
him soundly on his ruffled shirt-front. 

" Fellow ! " he cried, red with rage, " he who maligns my 
Emperor insults me ! Withdraw your words or I will kill 
you ! " 



58 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

But the fat calumniator of Napoleon looked into the face 
of the Emperor's young champion, and snapped his fingers 
once, twice, beneath the boy's nose. 

" Pah ! Infant ! " he said. " That for you ! " Then he 
turned his back on the angry boy and called out with the 
laugh that maddens, " Daunou, send for his nurse ! " 



CHAPTER VI 

A FUSS WITH FOUCH^ 

PHILIP fairly cried with rage. A boy's wrath is some 
times so overmastering that it unnerves him, and he 
can do nothing but let it dissolve in tears. But the boy 
quickly dashed the unwelcome drops from his eyes, and 
turned to the Keeper of the Archives. 

" Sir-" he began, but the Keeper interrupted him, gently 
but firmly : 

" We are all citizens in this household, my boy," he said. 
" For us, at least, the Republic is not yet dead, nor have we 
grown weary of its simple ways." 

" Citizen Keeper, then," Philip said, falling back upon the 
old address of the Revolution, " I bid you and Mademoiselle 
good day. If it be the ways of the Republic to malign the 
absent and to insult guests, then am I glad the Republic is 
dead. Long live the Emperor ! " 

And, deeply bowing, the boy turned toward the door. 
But the Keeper of the Archives caught him by the arm. 
" Amen to that wish, my son ! " he said. " None surely 
could breathe it more sincerely than do I, though I neither 
countenance all the actions nor blindly follow the lead of 
the Emperor. I, too, am in the service of the State. So do 
I seek to render, as is my duty, loyal and devoted service, 

59 



60 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

even though the Emperor does not love me, and I am friend 
enough to him to know his faults and wish him so well that 
I would see him mend them." 

"And I am friend enough to Monsieur Philip he, surely, 
is not yet old enough to be Citizen Philip, is he, papa ? to 
wish him well out of the nest of politics into which he has 
fallen." So said Mademoiselle. " For me, papa," she added, 
" I do think you might at least protect him from Uncle 
Fauriel here, whose tongue is sharper than Marcel's needle, 
without being able to do nearly as much work nor as 
good, either." 

Hereupon, Uncle Fauriel came forward, his hand extended, 
his fierceness lost in a smile. 

" You are a brave boy, young Desnouettes," he said ; " and 
I an old fool. My tongue is but a galloping steed that 
often bears me runaway. I ask your pardon. Any boy 
who has pluck enough to help the helpless and champion 
the absent has my admiration, even though the helpless one 
be the girl who detests her Uncle Fauriel, and the absent 
one be the Cor the fellow I detest. Come, take both my 
apology and my hand. I need to fight with a fellow first to 
make me love him. And I love you. Here, friends all : a 
toast, in Mademoiselle's own grape-juice. I give you : 'Mon 
sieur the Page ! May Mademoiselle never need a doughtier 
knight, nor Napoleon himself a more loyal champion.' I 
drink to Monsieur the Page ! " 

And all the company caught up the delicate glasses from 
Mademoiselle's little table. 

" To Monsieur the Page ! " they cried, and emptied their 
glasses with a will. 



A FUSS WITH FOUCHfi 61 

" There, now ; we are all friends, are we not ? " cried 
Mademoiselle, gleefully. " Come, Monsieur Philip, let me 
finish papa's unlucky attempt. You must know us all." 
And, taking the boy's arm, the young girl introduced him 
to her guests. 

The greetings were most cordial, and Philip soon found 
himself in such novel and yet such friendly surroundings 
that he was glad of the adventure, and even did not regret 
his quarrel. For even those who disagree with us think all 
the more of us if we are ready to defend our principles 
stoutly and with vigor. Philip's first principle was loyalty 
to the Emperor; and this he was prepared to maintain 
against all comers, and even in hostile company. 

He enjoyed himself so much that he very nearly over 
stayed his time. His adieus, therefore, were hurried; but 
he accepted Citizen Daunou's earnest invitation to come to 
them again, and he bade Mademoiselle good day with boy 
ish warmth and emphasis. 

I am so glad to have met you, Mademoiselle," he said, 
" that I do not even regret the fire." 

" Nor I my ungracious flight from my preserver," she re 
plied smilingly ; " and we yet may have that schottische." 

As Philip was hurrying along the Street of the Fight 
toward the New Bridge, an arm was slipped through his, 
and a puffy, panting voice said, "So! but you travel fast, 
you boy. Let us walk together, we two." 

It was Uncle Fauriel. Philip was almost startled by the 
friendliness of his late ferocious adversary. 

" What ! you, Monsieur ? " he cried. 

" Come, come ; none of your aristocratic notions with me, 



62 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

son of the tmigrtt. Don't Monsieur me ! I am plain Citizen 
Fauriel. That is surely enough for any honest Frenchman 
in these days, when marshals and dukes are as plenty as 
pease in a porridge ; fcr you shall call me, as does my dear 
Mademoiselle Uncle Fauriel. I should like to be Uncle 
to all the brave boys and girls of France. I wish to walk 
and talk with you, young Desnouettes. I meant nothing 
against you by my talk. Of course you know that. It is 
but my way. I hate the Corsican, and I make no secret of 
saying so among friends." 

" But why ? " Philip inquired. 

" Why ? " Uncle Fauriel replied. " See here, my Philip ; 
I am of the Eevolution. I went through blood for the rights 
of man. I cried down kings and thrones. When that the 
abbey of St. Denis was sacked, I was there to batter down 
its statues and dig up the bones of kings. I played foot-ball 
with the head of Henry of Navarre. I handed the red bon 
net to Capet, and let loose toward heaven the doves of Robes 
pierre. I sang ' Up, Vengeance ! ' with the loudest, and 
danced the Carmagnole with the maddest. Yes, I was not 
so fat then as to-day. I could dance. I adored the Revolu 
tion. I loved the Republic. But when the Republic became 
the Terror, and blood only was its soul, then I saw that even 
liberty can become tyranny, and longed for one who should 
save the nation. He came. It was the Corsican the Com 
mander, the Conqueror, the Consul. I hailed him as the 
deliverer of France. But power has puffed him up, and he 
who might have been France's savior is himself France's 
tyrant. Then I gave up I who had been a soldier of the 
Republic, I who had served as secretary to Fouche 



A FUSS WITH FOUCHE 63 

" The Duke of Otranto ? " Philip cried in surprise. 

" Give me no dukes, boy," Uncle Fauriel returned hotly. 
" He is but Fouche to me ; and ever the same Fouche, though 
steeped in titles Fouche, the renegade priest, bloodhound 
of the Terror, chief spy of the Empire ! " 

" Citizen ! quiet, quiet, I pray ! " Philip exclaimed in 
alarm, but under his breath. " Fouch^ is everywhere." 

" And you are a page of the Emperor," Uncle Fauriel said, 
with a knowing nod. " You are wise, you boy, and know 
upon which side of your bread the butter has been spread. 
But now you know why I hate the Corsican. He has be 
trayed liberty. I hailed him as the one man who might 
redeem France; he has been the one man to enslave her. 
So I gave up politics for pen- work. But still is my anger 
hot. Listen, son of the tmigrd: you are young; you are 
hopeful ; you have everything to choose from and everything 
to do. Your life lies before you. Worship no man. If 
you must serve the Cor the Emperor then serve him 
well ; not for his interest, though for the nation's. Our 
boys are our only salvation. So, if I get growl-y, if I anger 
you again, forgive me and say to yourself : Uncle Fauriel is 
a madman ; but he has run against all sorts of people and 
knows how small a thing is a man. Adieu, young Desnou- 
ettes ; adieu, my Philip. Here is my home. You are a 
bright boy ; be bright with both your eyes." 

And with that the boy's new friend darted into the door 
way of one of the lofty houses in the narrow Street of the 
Gibbet, leaving Philip wondering. So rapid had been Uncle 
Fauriel's flow of talk that Philip had not been able to get a 
word in edgewise. It was a new experience to him, to find 



64 A BOY OF THE FIEST EMPIRE 

men opposed to the Emperor and not Austrians, nor 
Prussians, nor Englishmen, but Frenchmen ! This gave him 
a sensation at once surprising arid unpleasant. He could 
not understand it ; for he saw that Uncle Fauriel, notwith 
standing his hot temper, was a wise man. But at last, with 
a boy's ready carelessness, he threw aside the unpleasant 
notion even as he spurned the advice. "Hate the Empe 
ror ? " he said to himself. " How absurd ! It is folly ; it 
is treason ! " 

But, for all that, Philip's new friends proved such an 
attraction that the boy found his feet again and again turn 
ing down the narrow and peaceful Street of the Fight, and 
he became a welcome visitor at what her father, the Keeper 
of the Archives, was pleased to style, laughingly, "Made 
moiselle's salon." 

So it came about that, though Mademoiselle hated politics 
and Philip loved a good time, he could not help gathering 
much that was of value to an expanding young mind eager 
to hear and to learn of new and novel things. But besides 
much wise talk from the scholars and thinkers who fre 
quented the house of the Keeper of the Archives, Philip 
also heard the tales related of what men had hoped and 
what men had done in the days when the Republic was 
really a dream of liberty ; and how France might have been 
a second America if there could but have risen a Washing 
ton, as in the land beyond the sea. There, too, though he 
had many a war of words with " Uncle Fauriel," as he came 
to call him, Philip learned to love the fiery patriot who had 
hoped for so much, and had been so sadly disappointed, in 
the Revolution, the Republic, and the Consulate. For out 




"'l AM HAPPY TO BE NEAR YOU, SIRE,' SAID PHILIP. 



A FUSS WITH FOTJCHfi 67 

of these three had come the Empire ; and to Uncle Fauriel 
the empire was only the Corsican ! 

There are some natures that distrust makes all the more 
loyal. Such was Philip Desnouettes's. He redoubled his 
efforts to please this Emperor, whom some deemed more than 
mortal and some called less than man. He became so 
zealous in the doing of his duty that even Napoleon noticed 
his tireless energy, and, playfully pinching his ear, said to 
him one day in the Tuileries : " Don't hurry so, you boy. 
Time enough to overdo when occasion calls. I must keep 
young France healthy for France's needs. Help to make 
the palace bright and gay. Are you happy here, young 
Desnouettes ? " 

" I am happy to be near you, Sire," the boy replied. To 
which, with a smile and a nod, followed the imperial approval : 

" Good boy " ; and again came the favorite ear-pinching 
that every one about this singular man had experienced, 
from Empress and marshal, down to page and post-boy. 
" And could you sing ' Zig-zag,' think you, as you did when 
you were our ' dirty boy,' for Uncle Bibiche and little Napo 
leon ? Poor little Napoleon ! " 

For the little Prince Napoleon, the son of King Louis of 
Holland, the probable heir of his uncle the Emperor, had 
died suddenly in the days when Philip was at the school of 
St. Cyr. And no one had yet taken the bright little fellow's 
place in the Emperor's affections ; for Napoleon had dearly 
loved his baby nephew and namesake. 

The very day of the recognition of Philip's zeal by the 
Emperor was also one of Mademoiselle's " salon days," and 
Philip's exuberance of spirits found vent in a particularly 



68 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

hot debate with Uncle Fauriel, who delighted to stir the 
boy's loyalty into fresh protestations. 

Even during their roundabout .walk homeward from the 
Street of the Fight, by way of the Square of the Louvre, 
they still kept up the talk, and both grew so heated over it 
that Uncle Fauriel was glad to stop a lemonade-man and 
"stand treat" in some of the acid coolness that the man 
drew for them from the odd-looking tank he carried on his 
back. 

As they turned to cross the square, Uncle Fauriel, occu 
pied in wiping the moisture from his lips, was well nigh run 
over by a coach which came dashing heedlessly across their 
path, and was saved from the collision only by Philip's 
strong young hand. 

" Now then, "stupid one ! What are eyes for, you ? " cried 
the coachman, scarcely deigning to rein up his horses at this 
narrow escape. 

"Ah, beast ! " Uncle Fauriel called back, furiously. " If 
I but had here you and your master, I would teach you 
manners ! " and he shook his fist at horses and driver as the 
coach rolled past. The man within, attracted by the jar and 
the loud voices, looked out at the window. He caught sight 
of Uncle Fauriel's doubled fist ; he saw the protecting arm 
of the page. A decoration gleamed upon his breast ; a look 
of mingled recognition and contempt was on his heavy face. 

And, as that face appeared at the window, Uncle Fauriel 
only shook his fist the harder. "Ah, you spy !" he cried; 
"you would run down honester men than yourself, would 
you?" 

But Philip, too, had recognized the heavy face at the 
coach window. 




/*fe&^ 




UNCLE FAURIEL SHAKES HIS FIST AT FOUCHB. 



A FUSS WITH FOUCHfi 71 

" My faith ! " he exclaimed, as he dragged Uncle Fauriel 
away ; " but you will get yourself into trouble, Citizen Uncle, 
with that tongue of yours. Did you see who it was, that ? " 

"Did I not, then?" was the reply. "Bah! the spy!" 
And again he shook his fist at the retreating carriage. The 
man within the coach was Fouche, the Emperor's hated 
chief of police. 

The next day, as Philip was awaiting orders at the Tui- 
leries, an order came. " Young Desnouettes is called to the 
Emperor," cried the first page, Malvirade. And Philip 
passed into the Emperor's study. 

" So, sir, you consort with malcontents, do you ? You 
conspire with traitors, eh ? " the Emperor broke out, even 
before the page could make his salute. " Is this, then, your 
return for my good offices ? " 

The tone was so different from the imperial greeting of 
the day before, it was so startling in its hostility, that Philip 
drew back in surprise ; dismayed and dumfounded, he was 
unable to reply. 

" What ! have you no tongue, you boy ? " the Emperor 
cried. " Come ! speak ! Speak up, you ! " 

" Sire," stammered the boy, " I do not know what you 
mean. I Then the words came with the ring of sin 
cerity "Some one has spoken falsely. No one loves or 
serves you more faithfully than I." 

" So ! we boast, do we ? " the Emperor almost snarled. 
" 'T is a false service, though. I know your ways better 
than you think. What plots are you conspiring with Fau 
riel, who hates me ? What takes you so often to the house 
of that Daunou ? What would these treason-workers have 



72 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

of you of you, a page of the Emperor ? Is your 6m,igr6 
blood telling, after all ? Are you the cat's-paw to pull out 
the chestnuts ? " 

"Sire," Philip said proudly, "my father was faithful 
unto death. My friends are no traitors." 

"Are they not, then ? How is it, Otranto ? What en 
lightening can you give this young fool who protests and 
prates so glibly ? " And Napoleon turned toward one who, 
till now, had kept in shadow. 

Then Philip recognized and remembered. His accuser 
was Fouche, who never deemed any one too high nor any 
one too low for his schemings Fouche, Duke of Otranto, 
and minister of police. 

" Did not I see you in the Square of the Louvre but 
yesterday with the Citizen Fauriel, as he calls himself 
Fauriel, the loudest-mouthed foe to the Emperor in all 
Paris ? " the minister of police inquired in his cool, exas 
perating way. " Have you not again and again visited the 
house of Daunou, Keeper of the Archives, who lives in the 
Street of the Fight Daunou, the Emperor's most inveterate 
opponent ? " 

" I have no cause to deny my friendships, Monsieur the 
Duke," Philip replied calmly. 

" But are these friendships for a page of the Emperor ?" 
Fouche inquired. " And does not that malcontent Fauriel, 
my secretary once, remember, does he not attack the Em 
peror openly ? Did he not, yesterday, shake his fist at me, 
the Emperor's representative, in the public streets ?" 

" He did, Monsieur the Duke," Philip admitted frankly. 
" But it was not from enmity, that. It was but his way, as 
you" 



A FUSS WITH FOUCHF, 75 

" Bali ! His way ! his way ! " the Emperor broke in. 
" Then is not his way ours. Look, you page ; I can have no 
divided duty, no questionable loyalty, in those who are of 
my household. You have chosen to consort with malcon 
tents ; you take your friends from among my enemies ; you 
shall not, then, serve me. Go ! You are dismissed from 
the service of the Emperor!" 



CHAPTEE VII 

THE MISSION OF CITIZEN DAUNOU 

CITIZEN DAUNOU sat in his office in the palace of 
the Prince of Soubise palace and prince no longer, 
however; for the splendid old mansion in the Eue du 
Chaume, or, as we should say, the Street of the Wheat- 
field, with its gardens, its courts, and its arcades, had 
been confiscated by the Republic, while its princely owners 
were fugitives from their home-land, fighting "the Corsican" 
in the armies of the foes of France. 

The old palace was now the Bureau of Archives, the 
building in which were kept the public papers of the Em 
pire. And here, surrounded by dusty documents, curious 
chronicles, and ancient records, sat the Keeper of the 
Archives, the citizen Pierre Daunou. His windows looked 
out upon the horseshoe-like Court of the Princes and the 
pillared porticos that encircled the garden. A pile of 
papers was heaped upon his desk maps, title-deeds, con 
fiscation records, and schedules of property taken by the 
Emperor from the conquered countries of Europe that were r 
now 'dependencies or vassals of the Empire. 

Some of these papers were of rare historic value ; some 
told, by their very presence in that place, sad stories of per 
secution, dispossession, defeat, and loss. 

76 



THE MISSION OF CITIZEN DAUNOU 77 

The scholarly old Keeper was so immersed in his study 
of one of these " genealogic finds" that he did not hear the 
little tap for admission, nor the stealthy invasion of his 
sanctum that followed close upon the tap, until two soft 
hands imprisoned his eyes. Then, drawing the hands away, 
he looked up and saw something much more attractive than 
parchments or confiscation records. It was Mademoiselle. 

" So ; it is you, truant, is it ? " he cried gaily. " And who 
why live the people ! it is Page Philip ! Is not that 
now the most singular chance ? Here was I just think 
ing of you just reading the name of Desnouettes. Let 
me tell you but eh ? holo, boy ! What gloomy faces ! 
Why, girl, what is the trouble, you two ? Is something 
wrong at home ? " 

"Not at our home, papa," Mademoiselle replied; "and 
Philip has none." 

" Has none ? What is all this ? " 

" The Emperor has dismissed me from his service, Citizen 
Daunou," Philip replied. 

" But why ? " 

" Why," Philip said hesitatingly, " because some one has 
lied to him. Because 

"Because, papa, we are his friends," Mademoiselle de 
clared. 

" Because of us ? No ; but is it so, Philip ? " Citizen 
Daunou demanded, as if incredulous. " Has, then, your 
friendship with my house brought you to grief ? Tell me ; 
tell me, boy." 

Then Philip told the story of his disgrace. He declared, 
too, that the dismissal was so sudden and bewildering that 



78 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

he had made neither plea nor protest in reply, but had 
simply withdrawn from the palace, and, quite dazed by the 
blow, had wandered about the streets until his feet had 
instinctively turned down the Street of the Fight. Instinc 
tively, too, he had entered the house of his friends, and 
there he had found Mademoiselle and quick sympathy. For 
thus unloading his woes on his friends he asked Citizen 
Daunou's pardon, but 

" My pardon ? " the old man exclaimed. " Why, Philip 
boy, I ought rather to ask it of you. You do but suffer for 
me for us." 

" There ! That is what I told Philip, papa," Mademoi 
selle cried triumphantly ; " and straightway dragged him 
here an unwilling captive. I told him you would see 
him righted." 

" See him righted I ? I see him Why ! one moment, 
you ! There, there ; let me think. So eh why, of 
course ! ' Come; run home, you young folks, and let me 
think it out let me think it death of my life ! but I see 
a light." 

"But, Citizen," Philip began, "I ought not " 

"Will you obey me, Philip, and vanish you and Made 
moiselle there ?" the Keeper of the Archives said, almost 
forcing them from the room. "How can I think if you 
children stay here chatter, chatter, chatter ? Out on you, 
miscreants ! blocking all work in the public offices. Come; 
go, go! go home, and do not fret until I tell you to." 

" My faith, though ! Is he not a terrible old mustache, 
Philip ? " Mademoiselle cried, in mock terror. " Come, let 
us be gone before he eats us botli this ogre in his castle, 



THE MISSION OF CITIZEN DAUNOU 79 

here. I told you he could manage it all you wise old 
papa!" Here she dismayed the "ogre" with a rush, a hug, 
and a kiss. " Come you, Philip; let us go and see Babette." 

" Yes ; go anywhere, anywhere, giddy ones," said the 
Keeper of the Archives. " Go and see Babette. Ah ! stop 
yet. This Babette, Philip " here he looked at the parch 
ment on his desk once more "is she, perhaps, your sister?" 

"My sister? Babette?" Philip replied. "My faith! I 
think not, Citizen Daunou. She is Mother Therese's daugh 
ter ; or so I have always thought." 

"You do not know, though, eh?" Citizen Daunou said. 
"Is she is she " here he looked at the document again 
"is she of your age ?" 

"My age ? Oh, no, Citizen," Philip answered, with the 
laugh of superiority. " Why ! I am fourteen, and as for 
Babette Babette is barely ten." 

"Ah, so ? That is bad ; that is well, well I was only 
curious. There, there, run along ; such chatterers, you two ! 
Wasting the Emperor's time !" 

" And again we are chatterers, Philip ! But what then is 
Monsieur the Keeper of the Archives ? Come away, Philip ; 
he is dangerous. Good day, ogre!" and the laughing Made 
moiselle dragged the ex-page from the room. 

For a full half hour after the young people had left him, 
Citizen Daunou sat at his desk, studying the paper that lay 
open before him, and thinking intently. Then, rising, he 
drew on his long street-coat, thrust the paper in his pocket, 
flung his chapeau on his head, and, hailing a cab at the door 
of the Bureau of Archives, drove straight to the Tuileries. 

Meantime, Philip and Mademoiselle had given up their 



80 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

plan of calling upon Babette, because it was not visitors' day 
at the convent school. So they had wandered up the dirty 
Street of St. Denis, swarming with people. They strolled 
along the boulevards, stopping now to watch and wonder at 
a juggler's free show on the street, now to pity and pay the 
baby tambourine-player by the rising walls of the new Ex 
change, or now to watch the boys at a game of prisoners' 
base in the Place Vendome. Then, after planning an after 
noon picnic in the Boulogne woods, Mademoiselle was left 
at the house in the Street of the Fight, to which Philip was 
to return when he had executed her commissions at certain 
of the shops in the Palace Eoyal. 

As for his troubles, they did not worry Philip overmuch. 
From despair he had been raised to hope, for he had faith in 
Citizen Daunou ; and then, too, he was a boy and boys 
cast off such troubles easily. 

As he made his way toward the Palace Royal and was 
crossing the new and splendid Street of Rivoli, there fell on 
his ears a sharp order of the police : 

"Aside there ; way for the Empress ! " 

Philip saw the dashing outriders, the mounted escort, and 
then the open carriage drawn by four horses. He recognized 
the Empress sitting smiling within, and, as the imperial car 
riage rolled past, Philip, true to his old custom, drew up and 
saluted the Empress. She saw him, and, turning, suddenly 
beckoned him to her side. Philip, still acting according to 
custom, ran alongside and, hat in hand, sprang to the step 
of the carriage, which did not even need to slacken its speed 
for him. 

" It is you, Page Desnouettes ? Go to the Emperor. Tell 



THE MISSION OF CITIZEN DAUNOU 83 

him I have changed my mind, and drive to the Little Tria 
non instead of St. Cloud. Bid him meet me there this after 
noon." Thus ran the commands of the Empress to the 
page. 

" But, your Majesty " Philip began. 

"How, boy!" cried the young Empress; "'but' to me? 
What would you say ? Are you on service in another direc 
tion?" 

" Alas ! your Majesty," Philip sadly replied, '' I am on 
no service at all; nor can I be. I am no longer page. I 
I have been dismissed." 

"Dismissed? You my good page?" the Empress ex 
claimed. " But why ? Ah, Madame the Countess, would 
you permit the page to enter ? I wish to question him. 
So ; many thanks. Now tell me the story, Page Desnou- 
ettes." 

And so it came to pass that the disgraced page drove 
along the Street of Eivoli in the carriage of the Empress. 

Frankly and briefly he told the story. 

"Ah, that terrible ball! And you saved the girl; and 
her father is grateful to you ? And he is Keeper of the 
Archives ? How can he then be untrue to the Emperor 
he serves ? And it was Fouche who brought you to grief ? 
Ah, that Fouche I do not like him overmuch " ; this, half 
to herself. Then she said : " And it is not true, is it, you 
boy ? You are no enemy to the Emperor ? " 

"Madame your Majesty, I would die for him," Philip 
declared. 

" I knew it. You shall live for him," the Empress said. 
" Here, lend me your tablets. So ! " And she dashed off 



84 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

a hurried line. "This to the Emperor. If that does not 
answer, I will see him myself. Why, you once saved his 
life, so he said. Now we must save you. There, begone, 
young Desnouettes. I am your friend. And do not forget 
my own message to the Emperor. This afternoon at the 
Little Trianon." 

The gracious young Empress gave the page her hand to 
kiss. The page clambered to the carriage-step, saluted his 
mistress, and sprang nimbly to the street, while the Em 
press and her escort sped on to Versailles and the beautiful 
Trianon, eleven miles away. 

" Two good friends for me," Philip pleased himself with 
thinking as he hurried back to the Tuileries. "You are 
in luck, you page." 

In the study of the Emperor the Keeper of the Archives 
had gained an audience with Napoleon. 

" Ah, Monsieur Daunou, pardon me," this a bit sarcas 
tically, " Citizen Daunou, you are welcome. Foes as well 
as friends may be welcomed, may they not, Citizen ? " 

" I trust, Sire, your Majesty does not count me among 
your foes," Citizen Daunou said. 

" Well, call it opponents then," the Emperor replied. 
" But I believe you, sir, are a faithful servant of the Em 
pire, even though you do decline my gifts and gather my 
opponents under your roof. What is your pleasure ? " 

" I come, Sire, to expiate a crime," Citizen Daunou 
asserted. 

" So ; it has come to that, has it ? " Napoleon declared. 
" You regret these gatherings, then, do you ? " 



THE MISSION OF CITIZEN DAUNOU 85 

" I regret, Sire, that they are deemed unfriendly by you," 
replied the Keeper of the Archives. " Whoever has as 
serted that they are disloyal is no friend to the truth. 
But even such friendly reunions as these gatherings have 
seriously injured in your Majesty's eyes one who is 
your Majesty's most devoted servant and most outspoken 
champion." 

" Meaning yourself, Citizen Keeper ? " 

"I mean young Philip Desnouettes, Sire." 

" Ha ! that boy ? " 

" Yes, Sire. He saved my dear little daughter that fear 
ful night at the Embassy ball," the Keeper of the Archives 
explained. " My heart and home have been free to him 
ever since. It seems my love for the lad has worked his 
ruin. Sire, I plead for his recall." 

" So ! He has been whining to you of my displeasure ? " 
the Emperor exclaimed. 

" Sire, young Desnouettes never whines. He is too manly 
a lad too devoted to you, for that. I heard of his trouble 
against his will. I ask his recall, not only as an act of 
justice, such as your Majesty is ever willing to do, but as 
the payment of a debt which I well know your Majesty 
will not repudiate." 

" How ? A debt ? " the Emperor said. " What is it you 
mean, sir ? " 

" This, Sire." And the Keeper of the Archives drew from 
his pocket the document he had placed there. " Singularly 
enough," he said, "just at the moment the lad was brought 
to me I was reading here his name or rather that of his 
father." 



86 A BOY OF THE FIEST EMPIRE 

" The dmigrd Desnouettes ? " 
" Yes, Sire the Emigre, and your prophet." 
" My prophet ! " The Emperor looked at the Keeper in 
wonderment. "You speak in riddles, sir." 

" No riddle, Sire, but a plain and recorded fact," replied 
the Keeper. "Permit me. Here is the deed of confiscation 
recorded against the estates of the suspected Citizen Angus- 
tin Desnouettes of Riom, executed for contempt of the de 
crees of the Directory in May, 1796. Here, attached to it, 
are the minutes of his trial. In these it appears that the 
Suspect, Citizen Augustin Desnouettes, lost his head for pro 
phesying that the only savior of France would Le General 
Bonaparte." 

" How, sir ? Is this the fact ? " 

"Listen, Sire." And the Keeper of the Archives read 
from the minutes : 

" And the said Suspect, the emigre Augustin Desnouettes, did, 
of his own motion, seek to cast discredit upon the Directory by 
maintaining that it was powerless to save France from disruption, 
and that the only salvation for the Republic lay in the success of 
Citizen General Bonaparte, for whose welfare he devoutly prayed, 
and to whose kind remembrance he confided the future of his 
motherless children 

"His children ? There was but this boy," the Emperor 
said. 

" So I thought, Sire ; but here is the record : 

' his motherless children, who would be left orphans by their 
father's death.' 




'"THERE WAS BUT THIS BOY,' THE EMPEROR SAID." 



THE MISSION OF CITIZEN DAUNOU 89 

" And here, appended to the deed, is this minute : 

' By order of the Directory the twin children of the emigre 
Augustin Desnouettes are to be bound over to the Citizen Jules 
Rapin, of the Street of the Washerwomen, in the Fourth Ward of 
Paris, and to the Cit 

" Here, Sire, the record ends, for the rest is missing." 

The Emperor took the paper and examined it minutely. 

"Bah, the incapables !" he said at last. "How heedless 
those fellows were under that sheep-like Directory ! To file 
papers so carelessly ! See ; it has been torn off." 

" So I think, Sire, either carelessly or for a purpose," the 
Keeper of the Archives said. 

" Twin children," mused Napoleon. "Then where is the 
other ? And was it boy or girl ?" 

" That, Sire, I too would know." 

" See to it ; see to it, Citizen Daunou," the Emperor com 
manded. " It is work for such a shrewd searcher as you. 
Ferret out the mystery, and let me know. I, too, would 
Well, sir, what is this ?" For at that moment the First 
Page, Malvirade, handed him a folded paper. " From the 
Empress ? " Then he opened the slip, read it, frowned, 
laughed, and handed it to the Keeper of the Archives. 
" See : it rains pleas for young Desnouettes ! Read it, 
Daunou." 

And Citizen Daunou read with surprise, in the hand 
writing of the Empress: "For my sake recall Page Des 
nouettes. He is my chosen page, you remember. LOUISE." 

" With so powerful an advocate, Sire," the Keeper of the 
Archives said, " my words are not needed." 



90 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

" The Empress has her way, generally," Napoleon said. 
"Who brought this, Malvirade ?" 

" Page Desnouettes, Sire," the First Page replied. " And 
also a verbal message from the Empress." 

"Bid him enter or no; wait without until I summon 
you. Then to the Keeper the Emperor said : " I was per 
haps hasty, Daunou hasty and worried, I think, with 
weightier matters. I like the boy, too ; but Fouche ah, 
well ! Fouche is not always to be depended upon. I will 
see to the lad's recall. And, come, my friend: think better 
of the Emperor. Believe that I, too, would serve France 
quite as sincerely yes, more sincerely than even you 
stern old relics of the Eevolution, who can see no further 
than the glorious days of '92." 

And, rising, the Emperor laid his hand almost affection 
ately on Daunou's shoulder. 

" Sire," the stout old republican responded, " my service 
and loyalty go together. I serve you as Keeper of the 
Archives. In that service I trust you will believe that duty 
and loyalty go hand in hand." 

"I believe you, Daunou ; I believe you!" the Emperor 
replied ; " though I know you do not love my methods. Be 
loyal still. Serve France. And I am France ! " 

Citizen Daunou found it hard to rein in his protest at 
this imperial announcement. But he bowed in adieu, say 
ing nothing. And the Emperor added: " Trace up the other 
child of the tmigrd Desnouettes, my friend. That mystery 
must be unraveled. I, who would be just to my foes, must 
be generous to my friends. This Desnouettes, it would 
appear, almost died for me. His son must be my charge. 



THE MISSION OF CITIZEN DAUNOU 91 

But, silence in this matter, my friend, until something is 
reached. Let me know of your progress. The Lest of luck 
to your hunting ! " 

The Keeper of the Archives left, and the page was sum 
moned. 

" So, rascal ! " the Emperor said, stern of eye and voice, 
" y u g about complaining, do you ? You work on the 
sympathies of both republican and Empress, eh ? " 

" No, Sire," Philip replied ; " I sought neither. But Citi 
zen Daunou learned of my dismissal, and the Empress 
stopped me in the street to bid me take a message to your 
Majesty ; and thus she, too, learned my story." 

" Well, sir ; her message." 

Philip delivered it. 

" Little Trianon, eh ? " Napoleon said. " Very well ; and 
you, sir, make ready to attend me there." 

"As page or prisoner, Sire ? " the boy queried. 

" You young monkey ! " And the Emperor pulled Philip's 
hair roughly, but in token of good humor. " As page, I sup 
pose, since my will is thus openly set at naught. And see 
that you do good service, you page." 

"And am I debarred from visiting my friends, Sire ? " 
the boy persisted. 

" What ! When you champion my cause so roundly in the 
very camp of the enemy ? " replied the Emperor. " No, no, 
you boy ; T make you see, 't is a good creation ! Heredi 
tary Champion to the Emperor ! See to it, young Desnou- 
ettes, that, as it was in the knightly days, my champion is 
fearless, loyal, brave, and true. Now, go ; report your recall 
to Malvirade, and in two hours attend me to the Trianon." 



92 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIEE 

Philip kissed the Emperor's hand joyfully, and ten min 
utes later was working off his surplus spirits by playing 
leap-frog up and down the corridor with six spry young- 
pages. Then, in his most lordly style, he despatched one 
of the porters of the palace in haste to the Street of the 
Fight, bearing a message of regret to Mademoiselle, that 
"a special engagement with the Emperor" would make it 
necessary to defer the pleasure of a picnic in the Boulogne 
woods until a more convenient season. 



CHAPTER VIII 

THE "COURIER OF THE KING" 

THE trip to the Trianon was a red-letter day for Philip. 
The English garden, the Swiss village, and the little 
theater, forever associated with the sad story of Marie 
Antoinette, were new and agreeable sights for this boy, who 
had open eyes for everything. 

The Emperor was gracious, and even gay ; the Empress 
had a kind word for the boy she had not forgotten ; and 
Philip, quick to cast sorrow aside, enjoyed the passing mo 
ment, attended faithfully upon his imperial patrons, and 
yet managed to " take in " all the sights that have made 
forever famous this celebrated "annex" to the splendid 
palace of Versailles. 

The days flew by. Philip did remember his dismissal 
and reinstatement sufficiently to stir himself up to such a 
desire to show his gratitude to the Emperor and Empress, 
that Citizen Daunou cautioned him against over-exertion ; 
and Uncle Fauriel, who was less vituperative after he found 
how nearly he had brought the boy into trouble, neverthe 
less declared that Philip was fairly running his legs off for 
" the Corsican," and stated his intention of applying at the 
palace for the position of Philip's substitute, so that he 

93 



94 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

might work off some of his superfluous flesh, whereat every 
one laughed. 

The picnic in the Boulogne woods came about in due 
time. Babette was there, and so, too, were Citizen Daunou 
and Uncle Fauriel. And whom should the children meet 
in ' their wanderings in the woods, but the Emperor and 
Empress, walking about like any " goodman and his wife," 
and not close hedged by all the state and escort that usually 
environed them in their " outings " around Paris. 

They recognized Philip, and stopped to speak with the 
children. The Emperor questioned Babette about her 
schooling, and had something kindly to say to Mademoi 
selle about her escape from the Embassy ; he pinched and 
petted the little girls, and rumpled all the order and dignity 
out of Philip's yellow locks, until Babette lost her timidity 
and laughed aloud at the imperial pranks, while Mademoi 
selle was so charmed with both the " royalties " that, after 
hearing her enthusiastic talk, Uncle Fauriel declared the 
house in the Street of the Fight would be contaminated by 
her " imperialism," and vowed that he would have to desert 
it for some red republican gathering in the St. Denis quar 
ter, or consort with the only real haters of "the Corsican"- 
the Bourbon exiles beyond the Rhine. 

Autumn passed, and winter came. Fouche was in dis 
grace. He had been deposed from his position as Minister 
of Police for concocting secret measures contrary to the 
Emperor's will. But Philip, not being specially interested 
in political plots and moves, was sure that this was his 
revenge, and boasted to Uncle Fauriel that the great Minis 
ter of Police had fallen because he had sought to set the 
Emperor against the page. \ 



THE "COURIER OF THE KING" 95 

"Piff, pouf !" puffed Uncle Fauriel; "hear our cockerel 
crow ! Of course it was so. When does your Excellency 
look for the portfolio of the Minister of Police to be offered 
you, as Fouche's successor ? " 

" Minister of Police ! " Mademoiselle exclaimed ; " Philip 
would n't look at that position. He will be what do you 
call it ? the Arch- Chancellor himself some fine day; and 
then, be sure, he will banish you, Uncle Fauriel, for talking 
treason against the Emperor ; and he will order the Imperial 
Guard to lead you in chains to the barrier, or else have you 
condemned to stand on one leg on the top of the Vendome 
Column and shout, ' Long live the Emperor ! ' until you are 
hoarse." 

March came in that eventful year of 1811; and when the 
morning of the twentieth dawned all Paris was in the 
streets. For like wildfire spread the rumor : there is a baby 
at the Tuileries ! Every hour the crowd grew denser. At 
open windows, along the streets, in the great garden of the 
Tuileries, people waited expectant, listening for the voice 
of the cannons of the Invalid Soldiers' Home to tell whe 
ther the baby was a boy or a girl. Of course every one 
hoped it was a boy ; for that meant an heir to the throne 
of France their future Emperor. 

At the first boom a mighty silence fell upon the listening 
city. Every one stopped, intent, anxious. One two 
three, they counted. Boom, boom ! \vent the guns up to 
nineteen twenty twenty-one. The silence was intense, 
the anxiety profound. Twenty-two ! There came a mighty 
cheer, a roar from thousands and thousands of throats. 
Hats were flung aloft ; people cried with joy, and danced 



96 A BOY OF THE FIEST EMPIRE 

and hugged each other, and cared no more to count, though 
the guns boomed away until the full salute of one hundred 
and one was fired. For that twenty-second boom told the 
story. Twenty-one guns meant a girl. One hundred and 
one were for a boy. No need to count after the twenty- 
second boom ! The baby at the Tuileries was a boy. 

Then, out of the cheering, came the mighty shout : " Long 
live the Emperor ! Long live the Empress ! Long live the 
King of Eome ! " For that was to be the title of this baby 
prince, whose mother was an empress, whose father was 
ruler over kings. 

Philip was in the palace, busy enough. He, too, at the 
twenty-second gun though he of course had already heard 
the truth felt the inspiration of excitement, and although 
he was in the precincts of the palace could, like " the ranks 
of Tuscany " in Macaulay's famous ballad, 

" scarce forbear to cheer." 

But he did not. A page of the palace, on duty, must be 
quiet and circumspect. So Philip reined in his enthusiasm, 
and, even before the echo of the one hundred and first gun 
had died away, he was holding aside the curtains which fell 
before the doorway that opened into the Blue Eoom. A 
short, stout man passed hurriedly between the parted cur 
tains. In his arms he bore a precious bundle swathed in 
richest robes. This man was the Emperor. 

"Gentlemen," he said to the assembled dignitaries who 
awaited in the Blue Room the official tidings, " I present to 
you the King of Rome ! " 

Down upon one knee, in homage to the imperial baby, 



THE "COURIER OF THE KING" 



97 




"'I PRESENT TO YOU THE KING OF ROME!'" 

dropped each man in that glittering throng of soldiers and 
statesmen. And as the little King of Borne lifted his voice 
in a wail of welcome, or, perhaps, of protest, there came from 
the kneeling throng the triple shout of loyalty and rever 
ence : " Long live the Emperor ! Long live the Empress ! 
Long live the King of Koine ! " 

All day Paris was in a fever of joy. What they had 



98 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIKE 

wished for had happened. An heir to the throne had been 
born. The semaphore, or signal-telegraph, flashed the news 
from city on to city; fast-riding couriers, pages, and messen 
gers bore the official announcement to distant municipalities 
and foreign courts; the people absolutely lived in the streets, 
talking over the event on corner and curb, on boujevard 
and in cafe. From a great balloon, that went up from the 
Field of Mars, papers were flung out to the people in com 
memoration of the notable event, and a constantly shifting 
crowd thronged the garden of the Tuileries, satisfied simply 
to gaze upon the palace that held the heir to the Empire. 

The Emperor overflowed with joy. He could not keep 
still. He wandered from cradle to cabinet, now looking at 
his son, now looking at his people ; and he who was unmoved 
by victory on the battle-field, and accustomed to every form 
of popularity and adoration, felt the pride of a father over 
top the dignity of a king. As he looked at the great crowd 
in the garden, as he heard the bells pealing joyfully from 
every church-tower and the guns thundering in salute, tears 
of thankfulness and joy streamed down his cheeks. For 
the day on which his son was born was, beyond all question, 
Napoleon's happiest day. 

In the evening the baby Prince was privately christened 
in the chapel of the Tuileries, and to him was given the 
sounding name of Francis Charles Joseph Napoleon, King 
of Rome and Heir of France. 

Every house in the city, palace and hovel and lofty apart 
ment-house alike, was brilliantly illuminated ; fireworks 
flashed and whirled in every public square ; while on the 
river that wound in and out, spanned by its dozen bridges, 



THE "COURIEK OF THE KING" 99 

the Seine boatmen celebrated the birth of the little King 
by an impromptu river parade, sparkling with lights and 
crowned with show and song. 

Philip was a tired boy when night came, for this had been 
a busy day. But as, after delivering a message to the Em 
peror, he paused for a moment to look at the imperial baby 
asleep in its costly cradle of mother-of-pearl and gold, above 
which, as if in protection, hovered a winged figure of Vic 
tory, the Emperor turned to him and said : " Young Des- 
nouettes, I intrust you with a special duty. To-morrow you 
shall bear to the Empress Josephine a letter announcing the 
birth of my son. You shall travel not as a page of the 
palace, but as a courier of the King." 

Here was an honor ! The boy could scarcely sleep for 
excitement, anticipation, and joy. The next morning found 
him waiting, eager for the start ; and before noon he was 
speeding across the country, a special courier, bearing the 
important tidings to the ex-Empress Josephine, who was 
then at her castle of Navarre, in Normandy, forty miles 
away. 

What a ride it was ! The day was clear and bright 
early spring in France. Through the streets of the city, still 
echoing with the joyous festivities of the day before, the boy 
rode from the Tuileries, in a light canopy-carriage known as 
a gondola calash. It was drawn by four spirited horses ; a 
postilion in imperial livery rode one of each pair of horses, 
and there was an equerry on the box. 

Over the Seine and out into the open country, along the 
highroad that led to Evreux, the swift conveyance dashed, 
with the right of way on all the route, changing horses every 



100 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

ten miles, while the postilion's horn rang out the warning of 
approach, and the cry " In the name of the Emperor ! " kept 
the highway clear. In town and village and from quaint 
little roadside homes throngs came out to stare and shout 
and cheer, for all the people recognized the imperial livery, 
and knew that the boy in the carriage was a royal page rid 
ing on the Emperor's service. 

Night was shutting down as, past the scattered lights of 
Evreux town, Philip rode into the forest shadows, through 
which gleamed at last the lights of the royal chateau. 

The calash drew up at the door ; the boy alighted, and 
then, ascending the steps between a double file of flickering 
torches held by light-bearers, Philip, the Courier of the King 
of Home, entered the palace. 

He felt as important as if he were the Emperor himself. 
And yet, what do you suppose he was thinking ? " My 
faith ! don't I wish that pig of a Pierre, who used to call me 
' mud prince ' when I lived in the Street of the Washerwo 
men, could see me now ! Would n't his eyes stick out, 
though ? I am as good as a prince, I am. Boom for the 
Courier of the King ! " 

This, however, was but the thought of an instant. He 
was really impressed with his mission, and anxious to de 
liver his message worthily and well. 

He bowed to the majordomo who received him. " From 
the Emperor," he said ; " a message to her Majesty. In 
haste." 

With a formal bow, but with a half wink and a twinkle 
of the eye as he "sized up" this youthful bit of importance, 
the majordomo ushered the courier into the reception-room, 



THE " COURIER OF THE KING" 103 

and despatched a page to announce his arrival to the Em 
press. 

The summons soon came : " Admit the messenger from 
the Emperor." And Philip passed on. 

In the chief salon (or reception-room) of this small palace 
of Navarre, Josephine awaited the messenger from the court. 
Once an Empress, and wife to the Emperor, she still, though 
separated from him by the cruel necessities of state policy 
and the imperial succession, held his honor and esteem. By 
her side sat her guest of renown, Prince Eugene Beauhar- 
nais, Viceroy of Italy, her dearly loved son, while around 
her were grouped the ladies and gentlemen of her court. 

At a signal, the doors of the salon were flung open ; the 
Master of Ceremonies announced, " From the Emperor ! " 
Then, in his imperial livery of crimson, green, and gold, 
plentifully sprinkled with the imperial bees ; with his light- 
green shoulder-knot and streamers fringed with gold and 
stamped with the eagle and the " N "; in his hand his black- 
and-gold chapeau, decorated with its tricolor cockade and 
lined with white feathers enter Philip the page ! 

Josephine greeted him with the gracious smile that won 
so many to her side. 

" It is young Desnouettes, is it not ? " she said. 

" Yes, your Majesty," Philip replied, bowing low. 

" 1 remember you well," said the Empress. " It was you 
was it not? with whom my grandson, poor little Prince 
Napoleon, once had so good a time under the chestnut-trees 
of St. Cloud ? " 

"Yes, your Majesty," Philip replied, all the time strug 
gling to detach his letter from beneath his crimson vest, 
where he had stowed it for greater security. 



104 A BOY OP THE FIRST EMPIRE 

Poor boy ! He had fastened the Emperor's letter too se 
curely. He tugged, and worked, and grew very red in the 
face, thinking all the time, "What a fool I was not to have 
taken it out while I was waiting below!" 

But the Empress, true to her kindly nature, seemed not to 
notice the boy's discomfiture, and talked steadily to him as 
he worked. At last the note was detached, and, dropping 
upon his knee, the boy presented it to the Empress. 

" From the Emperor, your Majesty," he said. 

Josephine took the letter eagerly, and accompanied by her 
son, Prince Eugene, withdrew to read it, while Philip, left in 
the saloon, was the center of attraction, and gave a glowing 
account of the festivities in Paris. But when the ladies 
asked eagerly how the little King looked, Philip stammered, 
rubbed his ear, and said, " Oh, I don't know. The cradle is 
beautiful, and it is true he is fine but, my faith ! so 
small and so red!" 

When the Empress returned, she too talked with the boy. 
Then came dancing and games and general conversation, in 
all of which Philip was included as an especial guest, and 
did have " such a good time " ! 

Tea was served at eleven, after which the Empress retired. 
But first she sent for Philip, and gave him a letter. " This 
for the Emperor," she said ; and added, with a merry twinkle 
in her eye, " Keep it as safe and secure as you kept the 
other." Then she handed him a packet. " This for your 
self," she said, " as one who bore good tidings. You will be 
going early in the morning, young Desnouettes. Thank you 
for your faithful duty. I shall report it to the Emperor. 
Be a loyal page, my boy. Serve the Emperor faithfully ; so 
shall vou best serve France." 



THE "COURIER OF THE KING" 105 

Philip kissed her extended hand, bowed, and retired. 
But, before he slept, his eager hands opened the parcel. He 
started with surprise and joy. The Empress had given " the 
bearer of good tidings" a splendid diamond hat-buckle, 
worth, so we are assured by the record, fully a thousand 
dollars. 

Philip was wild with delight ; for he dearly loved beauti 
ful things. 

He was up and away early the next morning, delighted 
with his reception, proud of his success, and more than ever 
in love with the kind-hearted and unfortunate lady whom 
men still called the Empress Josephine. 

Merrily his relays of horses hurried his light calash over 
the highway. Through town and village, as before, he rode 
in haste, " In the name of the Emperor ! " giving him the 
right of way. But when he reached St. Germain, he found 
himself ahead of schedule time, and bade the equerry direct 
the postilions to change the route, and, crossing the Seine, 
swing around so as to enter Paris by the St. Denis gate. 
Across country to St. Denis he rode, and, passing beneath 
the noble arch that spanned the gate, he entered the city. 

Philip felt like a conqueror making a royal progress as he 
rode down the long and dirty Street of St. Denis the 
Bowery of old Paris. Street boys hailed him with cheers ; 
venders offered him their wares, from waffles to hot pota 
toes ; people stopped and stared; and still he had the right 
of way. 

Then a great desire filled the boy's heart. He would go 
to the palace by the way of the Street of the Washerwomen. 
That would make the triumph of his trip complete. The 



106 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

people of the quarter should see that the mud prince had 
become a real prince. If only now " that pig of a Pierre " 
could see him ! 

So, obedient to his instructions, the postilions turned oft' 
from the Street of St. Denis into the Street of the Needle- 
makers, and thence into the Street of the Washerwomen. 
The well-remembered street of his boyhood was but a nar 
row thoroughfare, scarcely twelve feet wide, with barely 
room for two carriages to pass each other. 

It was as dirty as ever, and so were its people. And what 
a shout they raised as the imperial carriage whirled along 
the narrow street ! Pigs scampered, children scattered, dogs 
barked, and on rode Philip like a prince in state. 

But, alas ! pride goes before a fall. Just before he 
reached the fountain which was at once the scene and 
monument of his famous fight with " that pig of a Pierre," 
bang ! went the carriage against some unseen obstacle ; off 
flew the wheel ; and, out of the carriage where he rode in 
state, went the Courier of the King head first into the 
dirty street! The crowd rushed to the rescue. Officious 
hands picked up the prostrate page, and brushed from his 
fine clothes the mud of the Street of the Washerwomen. 
The wheel was readjusted ; the boy took his seat again, 
angry and crestfallen ; the postilions started their horses. 
But when, suddenly thinking of his mission, Philip clapped 
a hand to his pocket to make sure that the letter and the 
buckle were safe, a cold sweat broke out all over the startled 
page. Frantically he prodded himself in every spot ; fever 
ishly he felt in every pocket. It was all to no purpose. 
The letter and the diamond buckle both were missing ! 



CHAPTER IX 

"THAT PIG OF A PIERRE" 

STOP, you ! Tell them to stop, Etienne ! I have lost my 
letter ! " 

Philip's voice rang out so strained and startled that 
Etienne, the equerry, turned about with a jerk, and the 
postilions reined up so quickly that the horses were almost 
thrown upon their haunches. 

Back to the fountain raced page and equerry, their eyes 
upon the muddy roadway. At their coming, the crowd 
quickly gathered again, and though Etienne, the equerry, 
threw all possible authority into his command, " In the 
name of the Emperor ! " it did not suffice to keep the crowd 
at bay, nor to scatter the swarm of over-zealous street-boys, 
who, under the pretense of hunting, only confused things all 
the more. And, not content with poking the mud, they 
indulged their bent in poking fun at the unfortunates 
so openly that Etienne, the equerry, stamped with rage, 
and Philip's flushed face showed how keenly these street 
jokes cut. 

The search was fruitless. Half distracted, Philip was 
turning away, when there pushed through the crowd a 
stoutly built young fellow of sixteen. He wore a sort of 
half uniform, and had in his walk just a bit of swagger, like 

107 



108 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

that of one who, now and then, was favored with a little 
brief authority. 

He looked searchingly at the page an instant ; then he 
pushed forward. 

" By the candle that hung the baker ! " he cried, " it 's 
the 'prince'! You are young Desnouettes, you; he who 
lived wdth Mother Therese, and is now page of the palace 
is it not so ? What is wrong with you ? " 

Philip greeted anything that looked like help. There was 
a certain amount of interest in the boy's tone, and the page, 
like a drowning man, was ready to clutch at any straw. 

" We were upset here. I was thrown out, and have lost 
a letter meant for the palace." 

" Bad enough ! Bad enough ! " exclaimed the new boy. 
" And you were fishing for it in the mud here, young Des 
nouettes ? Off, now ! It 's easy to see you have forgotten 
your training, before you are six years out of the streets. 
Don't you know that sometimes one must fish in the air and 
hunt in the sea ? I '11 wager you, now, that thing is right 
before your eyes, if it is not under your nose; as, for ex 
ample And, with a dash, he plunged into the crowd, 
whirled about first one and then another, and finally 
pounced upon an inoffensive-looking old " Bellows-and- 
buckets-to-mend " man, who, with his basket of bellows 
strapped on his back, was an idle gazer in the watching 
crowd. 

"So, rascal! You delay the Emperor's message, do you ? 
See, you page, is not this your letter ? " and he pulled from 
beneath the bellows-mender's basket-strap a paper that had 
been slyly tucked there. 



"THAT PIG OF A PIERRE" 109 

Philip stared in unbelief, and then fell upon his recovered 
treasure with a shout. Etienne, the equerry, cried in a loud 
voice: "In the name of the Emperor, seize that man! 
Police, police ! " 

But the old bellows-mender protested his innocence in a 
torrent of denial, and even Philip was compelled to admit 
the wisdom of his new friend's laughing taunt : " Ho ! you 
page ; you will need to go to school to the street again. 
Don't you know that he who is guilty is not he who is 
caught? Old bellows-mender could never stick a note 
under his own strap behind his back, could he, say ? Some 
of our good friends here at hand played that trick on him 
and you. Having the booty, let the joke pass. The letter 
is better than the lifter." 

" Wise one, let me thank you," Philip said, ready to clasp 
his benefactor iu a warm embrace. "Your name ? " 

" Then you do not know me ? " 

"What, I ? Why no ! but so! Why it is never" 

" Yes ? " 

"That pig of a Pierre ?" Philip blurted out the words in 
an astonishment of recognition. 

" Citizen Pierre Labeau, at your excellency's service," the 
big boy said, with a mock salute. "Oh, you are not the 
only one out of our street, Prince Phil, to get your step. 
Behold me! I am deputy doorkeeper at La Force !" 

"The big prison?" 

"The same and where you might have been, young Des- 
nouettes, had I not been clever enough to see through an 
old joke such as our street has ever loved to play upon the 

high and mighty." 
10 



110 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

Philip could scarcely speak. Shame and surprise alike 
filled him with dismay, and almost brought the mist of 
boyish mortification into his eyes. He had driven through 
the Street of the Washerwomen just to make "that pig of a 
Pierre " green with envy ; and, behold, Philip was the dis 
comfited one Pierre, the self-possessed one ! 

But, quickly, mortification turned to gratitude. He flung 
out both hands toward his old foeman. 

"My friend," he cried, "I owe you much. Where may I 
see you to-morrow? I am on duty to-day. I wish to Oh, 
my head ! My heart ! I forgot the other!" 

"What now?" Pierre inquired, struck by Philip's sudden 
despair. 

"All is ready, Monsieur the Page," Etienne, the equerry, 
called from the calash. 

The finding of the letter had driven the morocco case from 
Philip's mind, and now the misery broke upon him. The 
diamond buckle and the morocco case had not been found ! 

" See, Pierre," he said quickly, and speaking low ; " I car 
ried, too, with me a diamond hat-buckle in a brown morocco 
case. The Empress gave it me last night. That, also, is 
gone. Miserable me! what shall I do?" 

"Sparklers, eh?" Pierre exclaimed. "That 's harder yet. 
In a brown morocco case ? So ! Go you about your busi 
ness. As for me, I will play the detective. Trust to me, 
and see, you hunt me up at La Force to-morrow. Adieu, 
my prince ! My reverence to the Emperor. Tell him I yet 
look to have Fouche's portfolio as minister of police." 

Then he almost forced Philip into the carriage, and, wav 
ing him an adieu, led off the crowd in a rousing cheer : 




'MY FRIEND!' PHILIP CRIED, 'i OWE YOU MUCH.'" . 



"THAT PIG OF A PIERRE" 113 

"Long live the Emperor! Long live the Emperor's page!"- 
with what was just then the popular postscript: "Long live 
the King of Borne!" 

To which courtesy not certain whether it was real or 
sarcastic Philip replied with a wave of his befeathered 
chapeau, and was speedily whirling into the courtyard of 
the Tuileries. 

As he rose to spring from the carriage, his foot struck 
something small and hard, ambushed beneath the carriage- 
mat. He pounced upon it at once. 

"My faith!" he cried, with gleaming eyes, "the morocco 
case ! Was ever boy luckier than I ?" 

There it must have fallen in the overturn, and there have 
lain during all the hunt and worry ; and, meantime, Pierre 
was playing detective for it. Well, he should be enlight 
ened and recompensed next day. Odd that "that pig of a 
Pierre " should have turned out such a trump, after all. 

Thinking these thoughts, Philip entered the palace, a 
wiser and much more subdued young fellow than had left it 
in such a blaze of glory only the day before. The boy's 
pride had suffered sadly, but he had learned a lesson. 

Hastily making himself presentable, he delivered to the 
Emperor the letter from Josephine. 

"So; 't is our royal courier. Well done, you page." And 
taking the letter, he read its words of congratulation and friend 
ship with interest and pleasure. Then he turned to the boy. 

" And how looked the Empress ? " he asked. 

"Well, Sire; and much delighted," Philip replied. 

"And did she" for Napoleon was always inquisitive 
"did she remember the messenger?" 



114 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

"Oh, yes, Sire; royally," the boy made answer. 

"So! It was like her. But how?" the Emperor went on. 

" With this, Sire." And Philip fished the brown morocco 
case from the pocket into which he had thrust it. 

Napoleon took the case from the boy, and pressed the 
spring. It flew open, and disclosed to the Emperor 
nothing ! 

riiilip gave a start of terror ; his legs lost all their stiff 
ness ; his eyes grew big with dismay. 

" Gone ! " he gasped. 

" The Empress pays liberally for favors," said Napoleon, 
grimly ; " or else my messengers play the fool with things 
committed to them. What was in here, boy ? " 

" A diamond hat-buckle, Sire," the boy replied in a broken 
and distracted voice. 

" And where is it ? " 

" Alas, Sire ! " said Philip, sadly, " I fear it was stolen 
when the letter was lost." 

" The letter ? What letter ? " cried the Emperor. 

The wrath of Napoleon was not a pleasant thing to face. 
It had withered bigger men than Philip the page. But the 
boy knew that a straightforward story was his only salva 
tion, and, without flinching, he told the Emperor the whole 
affair, not even concealing his reasons for driving through 
the Street of the Washerwomen. 

The -Emperor listened impassively, and when the end was 
reached he said : " This, then, is the way you would play the 
messenger, you boy ? You would use the Emperor's time 
to serve your private ends ? Had the letter been lost, your 
head should have been the forfeit. I confer favors only 




'GONE!' HE GASPED." 



"THAT PIG OF A PIEKRE" 117 

where I can trust; I command only those who will obey 
me. Have I judged wrongly, and may I not trust you, 
boy ? You have betrayed your trust you, the Courier of 
the King. Ah, so ! I have it ! Come with me. The King 
of Eome, whom you have served so carelessly, shall judge 
your misdemeanor." And bidding the boy follow him, the 
Emperor strode on to the imperial nursery. 

In his royal cradle lay the royal baby. Napoleon stopped 
beside the little bed of his son, looked down upon him, and 
said solemnly : 

" Your Majesty, here is your courier. He has been care 
less in his trust. I present him to you for judgment and 
sentence. Your Majesty's smile or frown is law. What 
shall be the verdict ? Shall we punish or forgive ? " 

All this seemed, at first, very absurd to Philip, who had 
but a boy's contempt for a cradled baby. But he grew 
serious as the Emperor made his point. He looked down 
upon the helpless infant, anxiety in his heart, but concilia 
tion in his eye ; and as he looked he winked the wink of 
flattery at the wondering baby. 

Thereupon, the royal infant began to " coo " and " goo " 
with all the gurgle of baby good nature ; with wide-open 
eyes he looked upon the dissembling boy, and, caught by 
the wink of that designing eye, tossed up one little hand, 
while the sober baby face broke suddenly into a certain and 
perceptible smile. 

"The King smiles. There you have the verdict, boy," 
the Emperor said. " His Majesty graciously pardons your 
misdemeanor, on the condition, if you can translate his sen 
tence, that you never do so again." And Napoleon laughed. 



118 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

For this singular man had a boy-side to his nature, that 
spent itself, now and then, in jokes and romps and ear- 
pulling, not usually associated with an imperial majesty. 
" Is he not a fine, fat boy, Philip ? My head, they say 
my eyes. Some day you shall dance ' zig-zag ' for him, as 
you did for that other boy in St. Cloud, provided you have 
not, before that time, lost your head through heedlessness, 
which I fear is not unlikely. But keep your head we 
need it for the future. For this young monseigneur here 
we must build up France ; and such as you must help him 
wear the crown. Go now. You are pardoned. The courier 
is a page once more. Yes and see to it that you play 
detective, too. The diamond buckle must be found. I give 
you three days and a release from duty to find it. Some 
day, too, let me see that Pierre boy. He is a shrewd one, 
and should be good for something. Go; and report the 
result to me in three days' time." 

Philip turned to go; then dropping upon one knee, he 
kissed, not the P^mperor's hand, but clever boy that he 
was ! the hand of the baby King. Thereby he won the 
Emperor's favor anew ; for even the great Napoleon was 
human and a father ! 

The next morning, according to agreement, Philip pre 
sented himself at the prison of La Force, where were con 
fined those held "under suspicion" of crime or treason. 
His imperial livery and his page's badge gained him easy 
entrance, and in response to his inquiry for Pierre, the 
deputy doorkeeper, that sturdy young fellow was soon 
hurrying from his post in the Charlemagne Court to greet 
his visitor. 



"THAT PIG OF A PIERKE" 119 

" So ; it is you, Monsieur the Page ? See you, now ; I 
have tracked three diamond hat-buckles and two brown 
morocco cases. Eh ? Yes ; oh, yes, we can find these things 
even after they get hidden away in the Court of the Miracles. 
It is just knowing how to get at them, you see. But when 
one comes to knowing every thief in the big prisons, as I do, 
one finds just how to get his information. I have secured 
some sparklers, I say perhaps yours, perhaps not. Now 
what was your buckle like ? " 

Philip, as well as he could, described the gift of the 
Empress. 

"Yes," Pierre nodded. "I have seen such a one but 
not its case." 

" That is here," Philip replied. " Behold, then ! I found 
it in the carriage after I left you." 

That made the whole matter clear. By cleverly using the 
knowledge gained by his street education and his prison 
connection, Pierre had traced out the lost buckle, and Philip 
was overjoyed. 

"To-morrow you shall have it," Pierre promised him. 
" I can put my hands upon it in an hour when once my 
lines are set ; but not to-day. See now, you Philip ! I will 
deliver the sparklers to you at the Tower of St. Jacques at 
sunset to-morrow. 

"At sunset to-morrow at the Tower of St. Jacques," 
Philip repeated. " And meantime, Pierre, my friend " (you 
see it was no longer " that pig of a Pierre "), " tell me how 
I can ever repay you for this ? " 

"Wait until you get your sparklers," replied the deputy 
doorkeeper of La Force ; and then Philip left the great, 



120 A BOY OF THE FIEST EMPIRE 

gloomy prison, that once had been a baron's stronghold, and 
wandered away to the house in the Street of the Fight. 
Here he held an audience spell-bound with the story of his 
travels and his adventures, his mishaps and his experiences, 
since last they had seen him, and since he had been weighed 
in the balance and found perhaps just a little wanting as 
the Courier of the 



CHAPTER X 

THE TOWER OF ST. JACQUES 

GRAND and graceful, the Tower of St. Jacques over 
topped the tiled roofs of the low buildings and the 
straggling market that surrounded it. Springing into the 
air one hundred and seventy-five feet, and surmounted by a 
delicate spire, the tower stood as at once guide and land 
mark for all that section of old Paris, from the eastern bar 
riers to the bridges and the palace of the Louvre. 

The church of which this stately tower was and is the 
only survival had been a sanctuary for murderers in the 
days of the ancient kings, but had itself been pulled down 
by those later murderers the rabid revolutionists of the 
time of the Terror who could not draw the sharp line that 
separates liberty from lawlessness. 

For so enthusiastic a student of the past as Citizen Dau- 
nou. the grand old tower had special interest. To this inter 
est had been added the fascinations of relic-hunting ; for 
among the papers that had come under his eye as Keeper of 
the Archives had been one that spoke of certain valuable 
relics deposited a generation before in an old crypt beneatli 
the northwestern turret. This crypt, the Keeper of the 
Archives reasoned, might have escaped the pillage and de 
struction by the revolutionary mob from the Paris streets; 
and this lie wished to prove to his own satisfaction. 



122 A BOY OP THE FIRST EMPIRE 

So it happened that on one of the last days of March, in 
the year 1811, Citizen Daunou was on his way to the Tower 
of St. Jacques, accompanied by Uncle Fauriel and Made 
moiselle. She herself was something of an amateur investi 
gator, and, in her way, quite as interested in the things to 
be seen and the things to be studied in the quaint sections 
of old Paris as was the scholarly Keeper himself. 

They had left the big Bureau of Archives in the Street of 
the Wheatfield, and with all the ingenuity and assurance of 
the born Parisian had threaded their way through the net 
work of narrow streets which separated the bureau from the 
tower; for in the opening years of the nineteenth century it 
was no easy task for any one but a born Parisian to pick a 
secure way through the great city's narrow and tortuous 
streets. 

They had skipped the flowing gutters, jumped the piles of 
rubbish, cleared the thousand and one impediments, dodged 
the ceaseless, pushing throng of peddlers, pedestrians, car 
riers, and cartmen, on both roadway and sidewalk, until 
panting Uncle Fauriel, pausing for breath in the doorway 
of a convenient wine-shop in the Street of the Fox, had 
mopped his perspiring head and puffed out : " It may be all 
well enough for you two one long and lean, and the other 
young and frisky to rush along at this rate, but I am 
getting too fat for your fun. I Ve dodged every cart and 
every carrier in Paris ; I Ve jumped the gutters and pulled 
myself in like a Gascon. Time was when I could do it as 
well as you, and travel the streets without getting a speck 
of dust or a spot of mud, as spick and span as Mademoiselle 
here ; but it 's gone by it 's gone by. I 'm too fat for the 



THE TOWER OF ST. JACQUES 123 

narrow streets, and too clumsy for the muddy ones. Go 
slower, or get me a cab." 

But Mademoiselle did not hear his complainings. She 
was conscious only of certain words her quick ears had 
caught from amid the passing crowd: 

" One of Nicholas's boys, he is ; name of Desnouettes. 
It 's to be a big haul, eh ? Sunset Tower of St. Jacques; 
and he says 

This was all she heard ; the voices were lost in the crowd. 
She had not even caught sight of the speaker ; but it was 
quite enough for Mademoiselle. Some danger threatened 
Philip ; for he was Desnouettes. He was one of " Nicholas's 
boys " - the nickname by which the streets of Paris recog 
nized Napoleon's pages. 

She thought quickly. Could she warn Philip ? She did 
not know where to find him ; for he had told her he was to 
be "off duty" as a page that day. Should she tell her 
father? No, he would laugh at her; so, too, would Uncle 
Fauriel. They would "pooh-pooh" the idea of danger; 
they would tell her that Philip was big enough to take care 
of himself, and that it was no matter for maids to meddle 
with. 

And yet that voice in the crowd might mean danger to 
Philip. He had not told her of his rendezvous at the Tower 
of St. Jacques; he had told her merely that Pierre had 
promised to restore the Empress's gift that day. Perhaps it 
was a trap. What ought she to do ? what could she do ? 

A brilliant plan flashed upon her. The Emperor ! He 
could do anything. Why, then, should he not protect his 
pages ? And Philip was his favorite. 






124 A BUY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

Her mind was quickly made up. 

" Ppa, I am going back," she declared. " Go you with 
Uncle Fauriel, and go slowly ; for he is such a hot old dear 
just now. Perhaps I should only be in the way if you are 
to climb and poke about in the old tower. I have just 
thought of something I must do. Never mind me; I can get 
back all right." 

And even while the two relic-hunters looked at her, puz 
zled over a girl's fickleness, she was off with a wave of the 
hand before they could make a protest, and, hurrying across 
to the historic Street of St. Hoiiore, was soon speeding away 
to the Tuileries. 

She ran along the terrace to the Floral Gate. To the 
grenadier on guard outside she preferred her request. 

" The Emperor, Mademoiselle ? Have you, then, an ad 
mittance order ? " 

"Alas, 110. I must see him on urgent affairs -a matter 
of life and death," the girl said breathlessly. 

" So ; is it as bad as that ? " the guard queried. " I will 
summon my corporal or, see-! my faith, Mademoiselle ! 
you are in luck, you. Look ! there is the Emperor himself." 

Out of the doorw r ay that led to the private apartments of 
the Emperor in the Floral Pavilion of the great palace came 
a short, stout man in a green overcoat. Mademoiselle knew 
him at once. It was her friend of the Boulogne woods ; it 
was the Emperor. 

A light carriage surrounded by a small cavalry escort of 
guardsmen stood in the inner court. The big doors of the 
Floral Gate were wide open. 

" Hun, Mademoiselle, now," the guardsman whispered. 




'SAVK HIM, SIRE!' SHE EXCLAIMED." 



THE TOWER OF ST. JACQUES 127 

" It is your only chance ! You must not lose it. As for 
me I see nothing." And, with that, he turned away. 

Almost before the words were said, the girl had scurried 
through the open gateway. Keyed up to the demand laid 
upon her, she was thoughtless of everything save her desire 
to be in time to rescue Philip from danger. 

The Emperor's foot was on the carriage-step. Straight 
toward the carriage rushed the girl, her hands stretched out 
to the little man in a green coat. 

" Save him, Sire ! " she exclaimed. 

Ushers and officers looked down at the girl, startled and 
shocked by this breach of stiff court etiquette ; and even the 
statue-like guardsmen almost moved. The Emperor, still 
with his foot on the wide carriage-step, turned in surprise ; 
for he had peculiar views as to the proper " sphere " of 
women and girls, and this sudden assault quite staggered 
him. 

" Well, well, sirs," he said, " what have we here ? Who is 
the girl ? Save whom save whom, child ? " 

" Philip, Sire ; your page page Desnouettes ! " she cried. 
" He is in danger danger of his life ! " 

" Page Desnou ah ! our detective, eh ? And you are ?" 

" I ? Why, I am Lucie Daunou, Sire." 

" Daunou ? Daunou ? " the Emperor mused. " What the 
Keeper of the Archives ? And you are the citizen's daugh 
ter, and young Desnouettes's friend ? Well, then, what of 
this danger ? What is it ? Here, sit you by me, and tell 
the doleful tale." And he handed the young petitioner to 
one of the small and stiff but gilded settees that stood in the 
Floral Pavilion. " Oh, sit, child ! Never mind ceremony ; 



128 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIKE 

this is not a public reception." And he made her sit at his 
side. Then she told her story. 

"Not much to go by, that," the Emperor remarked, as 
Mademoiselle reached the end. " And yet it may mean mis 
chief. Philip was to receive back the lost hat-buckle to 
day, was he ? He has tracked it well. We must not let the 
chance of losing it again come to him. But how could those 
rascals know it ? Is that Pierre boy playing him false ? 
At the Tower of St. Jacques, you say. We will set a watch. 
Ho, Meneval ! See that we drive first to Baron Pasquier's 
at the Ministry of Police. Never fear, child ; Philip shall 
come to no such harm. There, run along ; or wait you 
must be tired. Come, you shall see the baby." 

" Oh, Sire ! The King of Eome ? " The girl clapped her 
hands for joy. 

" The baby, the baby, child ! " And then this ruler of 
kings caught the girl by the hand, and together " Just as 
if he might have been Uncle Fauriel," Mademoiselle after 
ward said they hurried along the corridor and into the 
royal nursery. For, despite his imperial aims and his con 
quering schemes, no man, when he desired, was more " one 
of the people-" than was the First Napoleon. And on the 
subject of " that baby " he was as proud a father as ever 
breathed. 

Mademoiselle looked and worshiped to her heart's con 
tent, and quite captured the Emperor's heart by her loyal 
enthusiasm. 

Seeing that the young girl glanced from the baby's face to 
his own, the Emperor smiled, saying : " He looks like me, 
this baby here ? " 




' THEN SHE TOLD HER STORY." //tf'% 1 ^ 

\y 



THE TOWER OF ST. JACQUES 131 

" Oh, so much, Sire ! " Mademoiselle replied. 

" Of course he does," the Emperor assented. " We all say 
so here; is it not so, Madame ? " he added, turning to the 
baby's governess, Madame de Montesquiou. Then to Made 
moiselle: "Why, he is as much like me as why, as you 
are like Philip." 

" I like Philip, Sire ? " the girl exclaimed. 

" To be sure," replied the Emperor, taking Mademoiselle's 
chin between his fingers and scanning her pretty face. 
" You should be his sister, one would say." 

" But how could that be, Sire ? " said the girl. " He is 
Desnouettes." 

" And you are Daunou. Are you Daunou, child ? " the 
Emperor said, with a searching look at Mademoiselle. 

" Why, of course, Sire ; who else should I be ? " the girl 
rejoined. 

" Of course, who else ? " the Emperor echoed ; then he 
added musingly, " I have known Citizen Daunou let me 
see ever since the days of the Directory; and I never heard 
of the Citizeness Daunou. Do you remember your mother, 
child ? " 

" Why, no, Sire ; she died when I was but a baby like his 
Majesty here," Mademoiselle replied. 

" Ah, yes ; to be sure, like his Majesty here. And now 
must we take leave of his Majesty here, and think of a bigger 
boy. For our knight is in danger, and he must be succored. 
But see you, pretty one," the Emperor said, again taking 
Mademoiselle's chin between his fingers and looking in her 
eyes, " I have a message for you : My compliments to Citizen 
Daunou, and tell him that, like all old republicans, he is but 



132 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

an owl when the sunlight comes, and cannot see beyond his 
spectacles. Just tell him that for me, will you, child ? " 

And dropping the girl's chin, the Emperor pinched her 
ear till she " ouched ! " in spite of herself, whereupon the 
Emperor laughed merrily, and even the King in the cradle 
gurgled in fun. 

" I will tell him so, Sire," Mademoiselle replied dutifully, 
" since you command it. But is it respectful for me thus 
to speak to my father ? " 

" When the Emperor uses you as a mouthpiece, girl, any 
thing is respectful," was the Emperor's decision. " And 
now, kiss his Majesty's hand. The audience is over." 

Mademoiselle dropped prettily on one knee beside the 
golden cradle, and kissed the dimpled little hand that the 
nurse uncovered for her. Then a page conducted her to 
the outer gate, but not before she had received the Emperor's 
parting word : " I will see to Philip's safety, little one. 
And do you remember my message to Citizen Daunou : an 
owl in the sunlight, eh ? " 

And in the royal "nursery Madame de Montesquiou, the 
little King's governess, said: "Well, nurse, if the Emperor 
is to bring all the children in Paris to see the little King, 
we might as well be in the House of St. Vincent de Paul as 
in the imperial palace. We shall have his little Majesty 
catching some disease yet, with all this hand-kissing." But, 
then, Madame de Montesquiou was very jealous of her royal 
little charge, and, if possible, would have kept him under a 
glass case. 

The Emperor did not forget his promise to Mademoiselle. 
That very afternoon, fully an hour before sunset, the Tower 



THE TOWER OF ST. JACQUES 133 

of St. Jacques was put under watch by detectives, while in 
the market at its foot a detachment of armed police held 
themselves in readiness to answer a call for help. The 
market was searched, the surrounding space was watched, 
even the old tower itself was twice hunted through for sus 
picious characters. But no Pierre, no Philip, and no am 
bushed kidnappers were to be seen or " spotted." 

What could it mean? Had Mademoiselle's ears deceived 
her ? Had she " fooled " the Emperor ? 

And, meantime, where was Philip ? 



CHAPTER XI 

THE PUPILS OF THE GUARD 

rriHE Emperor had been " fooled." For even while de- 
_l_ tectives and policemen were searching the old Tower 
of St. Jacques, Philip the page, who had never been near it 
at all, was walking calmly toward the Street of the Fight, 
with the recovered hat-buckle safe in his pocket, and in his 
mind an ardent desire somehow to repay Pierre. 

He had haunted the crooked streets of the dirty quarter 
in which he had come so signally to grief, hoping to gain 
some clue that would put him on the track of the marau 
ders. When a boy's pride is hurt he will not rest until he 
can regain his self-esteem, and Philip felt that his duty lay 
in bringing the guilty ones to justice. If he could do this 
without the help of Pierre, the deputy doorkeeper, it would 
prove that boys could be just as wide-awake in the Tuileries 
as among the strange things that went on at La Force. 

So, no longer in his imperial livery of crimson and gold, 
but in the every-day dress of a Paris boy, Philip was seeking 
to put to good use his old education of the street, when sud 
denly, in the narrow and dirty Street of Jean Lantier, near 
to the unsavory Court of the Miracles, he ran plump against 
Pierre. 

The amateur detectives looked keenly at each other. Then 



THE PUPILS OF THE GUAED 135 

the boy from La Force said to the boy from the Tuileries: 
" What, it is you, young Desnouettes ? And doing what ? " 

" Hunting those fellows down, my Pierre," Philip replied. 
" I don't like to let things go unsettled." 

" And could you not trust me, Monsieur the Page ? You 
gain nothing by pushing things." 

" I can gain my lost standing at the palace," Philip re 
sponded. 

" But leave it to me, my boy," said Pierre. " Such a hunt 
is more in my line than in yours. And we are both ahead 
of time, we two ; but I have your sparklers." 

"Good boy, Pierre!" cried jubilant Philip; and added, 
with boyish assurance, " the Emperor will repay you. Give 
me the buckle." 

" But not in the street, stupid ! Would you lose it again ? " 
the young detective whispered. " Come you with me 
say to Citizen Popon's. You remember the place ? " 

Kemember it ? Did he not, though ? It was the dark 
wine-cellar in which Philip had overheard the plot against 
the Emperor, and from which he reckoned the days of his 
good fortune. 

So it came to pass that in the dingy wine-cellar of Citi 
zen Popon, rather than at the old Tower of St. Jacques, 
the page recovered his lost treasure, and said again and 
again : " My faith ! but you are a clever one you Pierre. 
However can I repay you ? " 

" Wait until I ask you for payment, my Philip," was 
Pierre's reply ; and then and there this successful young 
amateur detective flatly refused any compensation for track 
ing the lost gift of an empress. In so doing lay his shrewd- 



136 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

ness ; for Pierre, though a good fellow, was always looking 
out for Number One. " Philip is a page of the palace, a 
favorite of the Emperor, and bound to rise," he reasoned. 
" If he owes me return for a favor he will always bear me 
in mind, and I may gain a new step by not taking from him 
now. It is better to be generous than greedy, and in the 
end it pays better." 

Thus sharply he reasoned ; but he simply said, " It 's for 
old friendship's sake, my boy." And so, after a long talk, 
the boys separated. Pierre went back to his post at the 
prison of La Force ; Philip, hugging close his rescued trea 
sure, sought, not the imperial palace, but the house in the 
quiet Street of the Fight. There Mademoiselle met him. 

" Oh, Philip ! " she cried. " And it is you ? Tell me 
quickly ! What happened ? How did they save you ? " 

" What happened ? " Philip queried. " 'Save ' me ? 
Where ? " 

" Why, at the Tower of St. Jacques," Mademoiselle replied 
impatiently. " I found it all out. What happened ? " 

"But I do not understand you, Mademoiselle," said 
puzzled Philip. " I have not been to the Tower of St. 
Jacques." 

" No ? " Mademoiselle cried excitedly. " And you were 
not set upon by brigands ? " 

" Why, no," said the boy. " You see, I met Pierre in the 
Street of Jean Lantier, before I had reached the tower. 
And see, here is the buckle. I have it safe once more." 

" But, mercy ! what must the Emperor think ? " Made 
moiselle almost wailed, scarce noticing the brilliants that 
had made all the bother. "He will say I misled him. 



THE PUPILS OF THE GUARD. 



137 




PHILIPS GRATITUDE. 



Dear me, dear me ! Now it is I that am in the wron** and 

O" 

who will right me ? " 

Much perplexed, Philip asked for an explanation, and 



138 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIEE 

Mademoiselle told her story, and how she had petitioned the 
Emperor. 

" But you saved my life, Mademoiselle," exclaimed the 
grateful Philip, "even if tlie danger did not come to me. 
For, had I not met Pierre before the time appointed, I should 
have been at the Tower at sunset. Mademoiselle, I thank 
you " ; and, true to the courtliness which had become a part 
of his daily training, Philip bent over the girl's hand, and 
kissed it in knightly fashion. 

" It is not for me to remain here," he said. " I must 
hasten to the palace and explain it all. Trust me, Made 
moiselle ; I will set you right with the Emperor." 

Then Citizen Daunou, who had entered the room while 
Mademoiselle was telling her story, said : " I may be an 
owl, Mademoiselle, though why the Emperor should say so 
passes my knowledge. But this explains certain things. 
Uncle Fauriel and I lingered late over our researches in the 
tower; and would you believe it? Uncle Fauriel was 
very nearly arrested by two officials from the Ministry of 
Police. Uncle Fauriel is so rabid a republican, you know, 
that he is ever under suspicion ; and but for my being recog 
nized by the sergeant of police who came from the market 
with his men, we should, I think, have been compelled to 
accompany the detectives as suspicious persons. My faith, 
though ! Is not that the rarest joke ? Uncle Fauriel and I 
were, I now see, very nearly under arrest as the intending 
assassins of my friend Monsieur the Page, under the special 
protection of the Emperor. Away, Sir Page ! It is not safe 
for you to linger here. Behold your assassin ! " 

And Citizen Daunou laughed so heartily that even Made- 



THE PUPILS OF THE GUAED 139 

moiselle's perplexed face broke into smiles, and Philip ap 
preciated the joke quite as fully. But, all the same, it did 
not free him from a little trepidation as, on his way back 
to the palace, he thought over the affairs of the day, and pre 
pared himself for a scene with the Emperor. 

The " scene," however, was but a mild one. Napoleon 
had far more important things on his mind than the trials 
of pages and the woes of over- zealous maidens. Philip, too, 
had the advantage of being first on the ground. He had 
made his explanations before the report came from the 
police ; and the Emperor, being spared the confusion that 
this report might otherwise have created, held the key to 
the situation, and, happily, looked on it all as a good joke. 

" But you were never cut out for a detective, young Des- 
nouettes," he said. " Leave that to others, and do, rather, 
the duties that are nearest you. As for the girl, she is a 
bright little creature and a wise one. She meant well. It 
was only you that blundered into safety without knowing, 
and so spoiled her excellent little drama. That boy Pierre 
seems to have been the cleverest one of the lot. I must 
see here, you boy ; do you know anything of your father ? " 

Startled at this sudden change of subject, Philip looked 
surprised, but said, " Nothing more than you do, Sire. I 
have told you all I know of him." 

" Nor of your family ? " 

" Nothing, Sire." 

" So ! Well let me see that Pierre boy ; some day I 
may find use for his cleverness." 

And Philip was dismissed, relieved but puzzled. 

But so many other tilings were afoot in that busy sum- 



140 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

mer of 1811 that a boy's concerns were speedily forgotten, 
and even the boy himself was so full of crowding duties as 
to have little time for queries and conjectures. 

The month of June was one round of festivity, ceremonial, 
and display. It was the baptismal month of the baby King 
of Rome. 

Napoleon the Emperor was at the height of his power. 
Kings were his vassals, and conquered nations were his 
domains. All of Europe, save only Eussia and the British 
Isles, was subject or ally to France. The little man in the 
green uniform was the foremost man of all the world. 

He had won his eminence by the force of his genius, the 
strength of his will, the brilliancy of his successes, and by 
hard work. For in all his vast domain there was no more 
tireless worker than the Emperor Napoleon the First. 

No one appreciated this more than Philip the page. 
Many a time, far into the night, had he waited the imperial 
commands, or run upon the imperial errands, until tired 
legs refused to do their duty, and the curly head dropped, 
dead with sleep, upon the wearied arm. 

The month of June in the year 1811 seemed the crown 
ing point of all the magnificence of the First Empire. It 
was a month of display one continued fete in honor of 
the little King's baptism. 

Philip had been one of the retinue that had escorted the 
imperial family from St. Cloud to the Tuileries on the after 
noon of the sixth of June. With the other pages he had 
hung upon the backboard of the imperial coach, as on the 
next day Sunday, the seventh of June it was driven 
through a living lane of glittering helmets and nodding 



THE PUPILS OF THE GUARD 141 

plumes, where a double row of the troops of the line and of 
the Imperial Guard stretched from the palace of the Tuileries 
to the cathedral of Notre Dame. Under the garlanded 
portal and into the brilliantly lighted church he had passed 
as one of the glittering procession. Within, as one amid that 
notable throng of princes and peers, of great officials of the 
crown, of cardinals and bishops and archbishops, of the sen 
ate, the court, and the mayors of the great cities of the Em 
pire, Philip had " assisted " at the ceremony. It was a sight 
never to be forgotten, when, regal in a coat of silver tissue 
embroidered with ermine ; with his train upheld by a mar 
shal of the Empire ; with his mother, the Empress, walking 
in imperial state under one gorgeous canopy, and his famous 
father, the Emperor, under another gorgeous canopy ; witli 
a princess bearing his baptismal candle, a princess holding 
his chrism-cloth, a countess carrying his salt-cellar, and all 
about him princes and dukes, chamberlains and marshals, 
grand " eagles," grand equerries, grand masters, and grand 
lots of other things ; with ushers and heralds and orderlies 
and pages; supported by his nurses and governesses; with 
an emperor for a godfather and a queen for a godmother 
this one little baby, Francis Charles Joseph Napoleon Bona 
parte, King of Eome and heir to France, was presented for 
baptism at the high altar of the grand old church which had 
been the scene of so many great and marvelous and curious 
ceremonials, but never of one more magnificent than this. 

So the baby was baptized. Then, in sight of the whole 
assembly, while the organ pealed out the " Jubilate," and the 
First Herald at Arms, standing in the choir, cried out, 
" Long live the King of Eome ! " the baby's proud father 



142 A BOY OF THE FIEST EMPIRE 

held his son aloft where all might see His Little Magnifi 
cence. Then all the crowded church, all the packed square 
without, and all the listening city raised a mighty shout: 
" Long live the King of Rome ! Long live the Emperor ! " 

Do you imagine that Philip would have missed that ? 
Not for the world ! His voice was hoarse from shouting ; 
his face was flushed with enthusiasm. He was proud of 
his position; proud that he was alive; proud that he was a 
Frenchman, that he was a boy of Paris, that he was a page 
of the Emperor ! 

Nor would he willingly have missed the great entertain 
ment at the City Hall, where, after the baptismal ceremony, 
the Emperor dined in public, with his crown upon his head, 
the Empress by his side, kings and queens on his right and 
left, for all the world like that great Emperor of old, 
Charlemagne, whose state he patterned after, and whose 
title he assumed. For, you see, the Emperor Napoleon was 
always dramatic, always startling, always effective, in what 
ever he undertook. Whether he kidnapped a king, or stole 
a pope, or " absorbed " a kingdom, or won a battle, or gave a 
ball, he did it so splendidly that even his enemies marveled, 
and all the world wondered at the audacity of this little 
man who had carved his way from nothing to a throne, and 
had filled the world with his name. 

To this baptismal ceremony and banquet succeeded days 
and .days of magnificence. And Philip was able to make 
the claim of the old Roman : "All of which I saw, and part 
of which I was." For, as the page of the palace, he was on 
duty at almost every " high function." 

There were banquets and balls, shows and processions, 







NAPOLEON REVIEWS THE PUPILS OF THE GUARD. 



144 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

festivals and fetes, street parades and water parades, tourna 
ments, fireworks, and balloon ascensions, and everything that 
busy brains could devise or lavish expenditure could procure 
to please the people, show the grandeur of the Empire, and 
do honor to the one who, probably, took the least interest 
in it all a pretty little baby boy, only three months old. 

At the Tuileries, at St. Cloud, at stately Versailles, and 
at beautiful Eambouillet, the summer passed in pleasure and 
parade and blaze of glory; for these were the palmy days of 
the Empire, the climax of Napoleon's power. 

And one day in the Place of the Carrousel, the great open 
square in front of the palace of the Tuileries, where the 
Emperor held his weekly reviews of the Imperial Guard, 
there came a new surprise. 

It was a beautiful August day. The splendid palace, out 
lined against the clear Parisian sky, made a grand back 
ground for the mass of moving color, as battalion after bat 
talion wheeled and circled and charged and manceuvered. 
Cavalry and infantry marched and countermarched, plumes 
nodded, bayonets flashed, helmets glittered, bands played, 
display was everywhere. 

Then, while the regiments stood at rest, the gay strains 
of other military bands were heard, and into the square, 
beneath the triumphal arch crowned by the great bronze 
horses of St. Mark's (which "the conqueror" had brought 
from Venice), there came, rank upon rank, in soldierly array, 
spick and span in their new uniforms of green and gold, 
eight thousand little foot-soldiers, not one of whom was yet 
in his teens. 

As steadily as veterans, as solid as the Old Guard itself, 



THE PUPILS OF THE GUAKD 145 

every boy doing his best, every eye " front," every hand 
shouldering a toy musket or carrying a dwarf sword, the 
Lilliputian battalions halted and faced the smiling veterans. 

The Emperor appeared. The boys went through their 
maneuvers with precision and ease. And when the review 
was over the Emperor, standing midway between his veter 
ans and his boy brigade, pointed to the little soldiers, and 
said to his grenadiers : 

" Soldiers of my Guard, behold your children ! These are 
the Pupils of the Guard, the sons of those who have fallen 
in battle for France, the defenders upon whose valor the 
future of my empire must rest. To them I confide the 
guarding of my son, as I have confided myself to you. For 
them I require, from you, friendship and protection." 

Then facing the boyish brigade, he said : " My children, in 
attaching you to my Guard I give you a difficult duty. But 
I shall trust in you. I know that some day it will be said 
of you : ' These children are worthy of their fathers.' Pupils 
of the Guard! from this day you are in the service of the 
King of Rome." 

" Long live the Emperor ! " From the Guard and its 
" Pupils," and from the thousands who witnessed the double 
review, the mighty shout went up. Philip's voice helped to 
swell the shout. He had regarded the little Pupils of the 
Guard with all that patronage of superiority that fifteen 
accords to ten. But he was enthusiastic none the less, and 
led off in a fresh hail of " Long live the King of Rome ! 
Long live the Pupils of the Guard ! " 

In the midst of this outburst his shout changed suddenly 
to a cry of recognition and joy. For, in the little knot of 



146 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

non-commissioned officers who had accompanied the Pupils 
of the Guard, and whom he supposed to be their preceptors, 
he caught a glimpse of a familiar face. That wooden leg, 
that grizzled mustache, that stalwart figure, that proudly 
displayed cross of the Legion of Honor, that air of confi 
dence and self-recognized ability it could be none other ! 
In a moment Philip had rushed across the parade, and flung 
himself upon the unresisting veteran. 

The boy's eyes had not played him false. It was old 
Corporal Peyrolles Peyrolles the wooden-legged Pey- 
rolles of St. Cyr ! 



CHAPTER XII 

HOW PHILIP BAITED THE KUSSIAN BEAR 

PEYKOLLES! Dear old Peyrolles ! Where, then, do 
you come from ? " Philip cried, hugging the veteran in 
a frenzy of delight. 

"Why, your Serene Mightiness, if your Imperial Mag 
nificence will hut grant me space to breathe," Corporal Pey 
rolles replied, struggling to salute his captor, " I would say 
in answer, from the School of the Pupils of the Guard at 
Vincennes, most Noble Nobility." 

" And when did you leave St. Cyr ? " 

" With your Excellency's permission, I would answer, 
your Serene Mightiness, just two months ago." 

" But whatever is the matter with you, ' high-mightiness- 
ing ' me like that, you Peyrolles ? " Philip cried, casting a 
laughing look of puzzled inquiry upon the veteran's stolid 
face. "Why don't you know me? me Cadet Desnou- 
ettes of St. Cyr ? " 

" So ! Is it young Desnotiettes ? " exclaimed Peyrolles, 
catching the boy by the arm. "Why, to be sure the very 
same boyor, pardon me your Imperial Excellency. 
And what may you be, all so fine in your crimson and 
gold?" 



148 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

" Why, what should I be ? " Philip replied. " A page of 
the palace, of course." 

" What ! over a year at court, and only a page yet ? " 
Peyrolles exclaimed. " You are slow, you boy. By this 
time, as titles are going yonder, you should be a Hereditary 
Grand Duke, or a First Grand Marshal of the Blood Eoyal, 
at the very least." 

" You dear old grumbler ! " cried Philip, giving the veteran 
another hug. And then he laughed ; for now he saw through 
Peyrolles's perplexing play with imperial adjectives. The 
old fellow did not approve of this flow of titles and honors 
that pervaded the court of the Emperor. Corporal Peyrolles 
was jealous. 

" Why, look you, young Desnouettes," he said ; " you can't 
throw a stone in Paris, anywhere, without hitting a title. 
And what were they all ? No better than Peyrolles once. 
Murat a king ! I marched with him at Arcola. Ney a 
prince ! I fought beside him at Marengo. Bessieres a 
duke ! I saved his life at Austerlitz. Duroc a grand some 
thing or other at the palace ! I helped him through the 
sand at the Pyramids. Why, even old Limpfoot, Talleyrand, 
whom we drove out of the republic for an emigrant, is a 
prince, if you please, and weaves his web about the Emperor." 

The old corporal grew so heated over this title-giving to 
those whom he had known as " nobodies " and subalterns, 
that Philip was forced to stop the tirade for fear of listeners. 

But Peyrolles was right, none the less. The craze for 
titles and position was undermining the Empire. The Cor- 
sican lieutenant who had been the friend of the Eobespierres, 
the general of the Eevolution who had made the Republic 



HOW PHILIP BAITED THE EUSSIAN BEAR 149 

triumphant over the kings of Europe, had now become as 
great a royalist as Louis XVI., as firm an upholder of the 
divine right of kings as his father-in-law, the Emperor of 
Austria. He was welcoming back the emigrant nobles who 
had been exiled because they were royalists, and was scat 
tering titles among his supporters like prizes at a rifle- 
match. 

But though an old soldier of the Eepublic like Peyrolles 
might grumble, and an old revolutionist like Uncle Fauriel 
might growl, the attache of an imperial court like Philip, 
a boy who adored his Emperor, and had place and perqui 
sites at the court, could look neither beneath nor beyond 
the daily life of 'which he was a part. " Who knows ? " he 
said : "I may be a prince some day. There is a chance for 
every boy now, in France." An ambitious lad, even if he 
did stop to think of things, would be a believer in honors 
and titles and rewards of merit. 

But Philip was delighted to be so near his dear old Pey 
rolles once more, and they talked of old times until the call 
to duty drew the veteran to his barracks and the page to his 
palace. 

This very day of the review of the Pupils of the Guard, 
there was a grand reception at the Tuileries. The Emperor 
received. 

The splendid palace was thronged with guests repre 
sentatives of every nation in Europe vassal kings, allied 
princes, titled ambassadors, peers and marshals of France, 
high officials, famous citizens, dashing soldiers, grand ladies, 
ushers and pages. 

Among the pages was Philip. With a half-dozen of his 



150 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

brothers in livery, he stood by the big door that opened into 
the splendid Hall of the Marshals. Here they awaited the 
arrival of the Emperor, who was making a tour of the 
palace and greeting or conversing with the great ones who 
were present at the reception. 

The pages, boy-like, were discussing everything criticiz 
ing this person, making fun of that, and getting food for 
talk in whatever came uppermost, from the toilets of the 
ladies and the awkwardness of the "provincials" to the last 
hotly contested game of " bars," the greased-pole climbing at 
the public sports in the Field of Mars, and the foreign policy 
of the Emperor ; for in all ages boys have been the same 
making " talk " out of everything. 

In all such boy-talks Philip always stood as the champion 
of the Emperor. He was at once apologist and applauder; 
but, with him, approval was real. Boys who have faith in 
their heroes are the most uncompromising of partizans. 
Whether Napoleon trod on the toes of Prussia, or snapped 
his fingers in the face of England, Philip was ready to ap 
prove without thinking why, and to shout : " Serves 'em 
right ! Long live the Emperor ! " 

Especially was this true of our page when, cautiously, sys 
tematically, and determinedly, the Emperor of the French 
began to prepare the field for a great hunting of the Russian 
Bear. And, on the day of the reception, talk of this now 
historic hunt was rife at Paris; for the relations between 
Emperor and Czar were daily growing more and more 
strained. 

So, as the pages grouped themselves about the doorway 
of the great Hall of the Marshals, the conversation gradu- 



HOW PHILIP BAITED THE EUSSIAN BEAR 151 

ally drifted toward the subject that was uppermost, where 
upon one of the boys boldly declared that when England 
was whipped out of Spain, as of course England would 
be, that would end the war. For Prince Talleyrand, he 
said, wanted peace. 

" Pouf ! Old Limpfoot ! What has he got to say about 
it ? " Philip exclaimed indignantly. 

" Careful, young Desnouettes," one of the pages whispered, 
with a not very gentle nudge. " Limpfoot 's around some 
where. Not so loud, you, or your ears may smart." 

" Well, it makes me mad, that ! " Philip declared, but with 
lowered voice. " Much Talleyrand knows about it ! He 
got his discharge long ago. He 's nothing to say. The Em 
peror, he 's the one to decide ; and the Emperor, I tell you, 
is bound to take it out of Eussia. The Czar has been wild 
ever since he had to give in that day on the raft at Tilsit." 

" That may be," the peace page* rejoined ; " but he 's not 
mad enough to fight. If he were, he would have pitched 
into us when the Emperor said ' No, thank you,' at the time 
liussia offered him the princess for a wife. The Czar won't 
fight. Catch-a-Sneezy said so." 

" Ah ! did he ? And what does Catch-a-Sneezy know about 
it ? " Philip exclaimed, a bit contemptuously. " He is but a 
spy, anyhow." 

" No, sir ; he is a fine man, Catch-a-Sneezy is," declared 
Victor. " He gave me two napoleons for slipping him into 
the Emperor's study one day." 

" Yes ; to listen and to spy," Philip retorted, so forgetful 
as to raise his voice again. " I am surprised at you, you 
Victor. I tell you, Catch-a-Sneezy was a spy." 



s 

152 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIEE 

"And who, now, might this Catch-a-Sneezy be, young 
sir ? " 

The query came from a big, bejeweled man close at 
Philip's elbow. The pages caught their breath, and nudged 
each other excitedly. " Young Desnouettes has got himself 
into a pretty mess," they whispered. The questioner was 
Prince Kourakin, the Russian ambassador. 

Philip looked around, a trifle dismayed. But, with true 
boyish heedlessness, he went on: "Why that 's what we 
call Monsieur de Sneezy Zernzy Czernicheff, your high 
ness," Philip explained, struggling with the unpronounceable 
name of the Russian who, it was claimed, had played the 
spy in Paris. 

" And you dare to call the aide-de-camp of the Czar a 
spy, you boy ! " the Ambassador said indignantly. " Have 
a care ; have a care, young sir ! Such a word spoken at the 
court of the Czar would cost even you boy though you 
are your liberty, and cause you to feel the whip." 

"But this is France, and not Russia, your highness," 
Philip replied with spirit. "Our Emperor does not knout 
his boys as Old Alec does." 

" Old Alec ? Rascally one ! But this passes a jest," cried 
the angry Ambassador. " Be careful, young Insolence ! You 
speak of the Czar of all the Russias. He is too great a man 
for a graceless boy like you to nickname thus." 

"What if he is?" cried heedless Philip, while the other 
pages felt alternate pride and terror at the audacity of their 
colleague. " Great as he is, our Little Corporal could eat 
him at a mouthful." 

The quick temper of the Russian, irritated at the thought 



HOW PHILIP BAITED THE ETJSSIAN BEAR 153 

of being thus badgered by a boy, and for the instant forget 
ful of his dignity and surroundings, stirred, too, by other 
things that had come to his ears that day, flamed up at 
this boyish impudence. The words had scarce passed the 
page's lips when the hand of the Ambassador flew out, and 
a sudden and stinging cuff fell upon the boy's ear. 

Then Philip lost his temper. He even forgot for an in 
stant to be a gentleman the thing upon which he most 
prided himself. 

" Ah, Cossack ! " he cried. " But that is like you Eussians 
to strike at those not your size. This is not Poland, sir ; 
this is France. And you, Monsieur the Ambassador you 
are a coward ! " 

The pages stood ready to back up their comrade, and in a 
ring about the minister glared at him like angry dogs hold 
ing a bear at bay. But the Ambassador had recovered him 
self, and with a scornful laugh turned on his heel and walked 
away to join his brother ambassadors. At that instant the 
voice of the usher announced, " The Emperor ! " and there, 
in the doorway, while the pages lined up on both sides to 
honor the entrance of their master, stood the little man in 
the chasseur's uniform the Emperor Napoleon. Philip 
hoped his indiscretion had escaped the imperial eye; for few 
indeed, save those concerned in it, had noticed the serio 
comic drama. With an ear yet tingling, and a face yet hot 
with the flush of anger, but feeling, nevertheless, that he 
had the best of the encounter, Philip bowed low among the 
other pages as the Emperor passed between them. 

And Victor whispered, " My faith ! but that was a narrow 
escape for you, my Philip. I only wish it were over. 




PHILIP AND THE RUSSIAN AMBASSADOR. 



HOW PHILIP BAITED THE RUSSIAN BEAR 155 

You '11 catch it yet, I fear. The bear is sharpening his 
teeth for you; and he bites. If he growls at the Emperor, 
though whoop ! " 

He must have growled a bit; for ere long the boys heard, 
as did every one else in the room, the voice of Napoleon 
rising loud and cuttingly, while the Eussian statesman, con 
cealing his discomfiture under a smile, took the scolding 
with scarce a word of protest. 

That scolding is now historic. It grew into a harangue, 
and for full ten minutes it continued unchecked. Philip 
indeed had baited the Russian Bear, and now Sir Bruin 
stood at bay before the chief of the pack. Over his back 
Napoleon barked at Russia and snapped at the Czar. 
" Choose," he said, " between the English and me. I alone 
can help you. If you threaten, I can fight ; and where then 
will you be ? You Russians are like a hare shot in the 
back : it gets up on its hind legs to look around, and ouf ! 
another shot takes the fool in its head." And so on, and 
so on, while Philip hugged himself with glee, and the other 
pages looked and listened with astonishment. 

Prince Kourakin, when the Emperor's breath had spent 
itself in words, withdrew in haste. 

" I am suffocated ! " Philip heard the Russian declare to his 
colleague the Ambassador of Prussia. "I must get into the 
air. It is very hot in the audience-room of the Emperor." 

As he passed he glared at Philip, and the page, true to the 
boy-love for teasing, could not restrain a passing shot. " It 
is not Poland, it is France, your highness," he said. " But, 
now who gets the knout ? " 



156 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE . 

The next instant, however, he regretted his hasty speech. 
He knew he had violated all the proprieties of court eti 
quette and dignity. And this, he was well aware, the Em 
peror never overlooked. 

A hand fell upon his shoulder, and he recognized the voice 
of Malvirade, the First Page. 

"To the Emperor, young Desnouettes. He calls you. 
Come quickly, quickly ; he is in haste." 

And Philip, bracing himself for a " scene," faced about and 
went boldly forward " to take his medicine like a little man." 
For Philip, though heedless often, was never a coward. 



CHAPTER XIII 

WHAT MADEMOISELLE FOUND IN THE STREET 
OF ST. ANTHONY 

THE great Hall of the Marshals had almost emptied 
itself of guests as the Emperor had scored the Am 
bassador. When big nations quarrel, little states stand 
from under. After such a bout as was this, when France 
taunted Eussia, none knew upon whom the imperial bolt 
might fall next ; and both vassals and allies had business 
elsewhere. 

Men whispered to one another : * It means war. Thus 
did the Emperor break out against Whitworth, the English 
man, before the war that ended in the subjugation of Ger 
many; thus did he score Metternich, the Austrian, before 
the campaign that ended in victory at Wagram. It is peace 
no longer." 

But Philip thought not of the quarrels of states, as he 
stood before the Emperor. He knew he had been indiscreet. 
He expected what English boys call a " wigging," and what 
American boys know as a " hauling over the coals." 

" So, young Desnouettes," the Emperor broke out, " you 
forget yourself in the presence of my guests ; is it not so ? 
You dare to bandy words with the representative of a nation, 
do you ? Feather-head ! Can I, then, not trust my pages 
to learn manners ? " 



158 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

"Sire, the Russian angered me, and I forgot myself," 
the boy confessed. 

" And does that make matters right ? " cried Napoleon. 
" Courtesy should never forget itself." 

Then Philip looked squarely into the imperial eye. 
" Sire," he said, " I did but follow my Emperor." 

At this bold declaration every listener looked aghast. 
Courtiers knew not whether to smile or to frown. Pages 
held their breath. Only Victor, the irrepressible, whispered : 

" My faith ! there goes boy Philip's head." 

But one never knew how to take that curious compound 
of severity and sentiment Napoleon the Emperor. At 
Philip's words a gleam of anger filled his eye; then, suddenly 
and strangely, it changed to a twinkle. He tweaked the 
page's ear that ear still smarting from the Eussian cuff. 

" Monkey ! " he said. " One might say the Emperor did 
but follow the page. What caused it all ? " 

" I said, Sire," Philip replied, " that Catch-a that Mon 
sieur de Czernicheff was a spy." 

" My faith, boy, you spoke the truth. I tell you, gentle 
men, the lad spoke the truth," Napoleon cried, turning to his 
courtiers, who now saw that it was policy to smile, and to 
cultivate this plucky young page. " That silken Cossack was 
a spy, and none of you dared tell him so. But you did 
wrong, you page, to meddle thus with what is not your con^- 
cern. You are too honest, I fear, to succeed at court. You 
will be forever in the water that is hot. We must use you 
elsewhere. Report in the morning at my study. I will de 
vise some return for your over-zeal. Go ! " 

And Philip went. 



WHAT MADEMOISELLE FOUND IN THE STEEET 159 

In the Blue Room he ran against Citizen Daunou. 

"What is this I hear, my son? " that good man said, draw 
ing the page into a deserted corner. " You have been bait 
ing the Russian bear, have you ? Tell me of it." 

Philip told his story. 

" So ! see what hot fires we kindle at the court," Citizen 
Daunou said. " A bad air, a bad air, I fear. When boys 
bluster, old men hold their peace. And what is to come of 
it all?" 

" That I do not know, Citizen," the page replied. " The 
Emperor is to render judgment in the morning." 

" And our Philip will be a victim or a marshal before an 
other sunset," Citizen Daunou declared. " Well, if the one, 
you have a friend in me, my boy; if the other pray let me 
have a friend in you, Monsieur the Marshal ! One never 
can count on the Emperor. He is full of surprises. But, 
Philip, this means war. We must face the bear at bay; and 
what France needs now is peace." 

" But the glory of it, Citizen Daunou ! There is no glory 
in peace," cried warlike Philip. 

" My son," said the old republican solemnly, " peace hath 
the greater victories nay, peace is the greatest of all vic 
tories. He who holds back the sword when it is in his 
power to strike is the hero, the victor, the conqueror, whom 
time will applaud, and posterity praise. Remember this. 
Oh, that the Emperor might feel it ! Oh, that France might 
make test of it ! But the blood-madness is upon us, and 
the Empire is doomed." 

Philip pondered long for a boy over these solemn 
words of Citizen Daunou. But he dismissed them finally 



160 A BOY OF THE FIEST EMPIRE 

as the theories of one who had no love for the Emperor's 
methods, and he felt glad that none but himself had heard 
the remarks. For just then it was scarcely wise to talk 
peace in the imperial palace, whose indomitable master de 
sired a new war of conquest. 

Next morning Philip obeyed orders, and reported at the 
Emperor's study. As he awaited the summons to enter, 
what was his surprise to see coining from the imperial sanc 
tum his old friend Pierre, the deputy doorkeeper of La 
Force ! 

"What, Pierre ! You in the palace ! " he cried. 

" And why not, young Desnouettes ? " the deputy door 
keeper replied. " Others than pages are sometimes here. 
As for me I had an appointment with the Emperor!" 

" That is good ! " Philip exclaimed heartily. " I hope he 
did something fine for you. I thought he might. I spoke 
to him about you." 

" Thanks, Monsieur the Page ! I am yours forever " ; and 
the deputy doorkeeper bowed so very low that Philip was 
not certain whether it was in thanks or in fun. A queer 
little smile, too, played about the corner of the big boy's 
mouth. " Some day, my Philip," he said, " I may do as 
much for you. The Emperor thinks well of me, and I may 
yet get my step. He has given me a special service. What ? 
Oh, we shall see ; and so, too, some day may you. Adieu ! " 

Then he passed on ; and even while Philip was puzzling 
over his hint the summons came, and the page entered the 
Emperor's study. 

" So ! you are there, young Desnouettes. And how old 
are you now, you boy ? " This was the Emperor's greeting. 



WHAT MADEMOISELLE FOUND IN THE STREET 161 

" I shall be sixteen next February, Sire," the boy replied. 

" And now it is August. Sixteen is some months away 
yet," the Emperor said. " But yet, sixteen is coming and 
sixteen is the age for effort. See, you Philip ! Champion 
ship is excellent. Did I not one day make you champion in 
ordinary to the Emperor ? You are a loyal knight ; but 
sometimes championship embarrasses. You were unwise 
last night. But you were plucky, and pluck is what the 
boys of France need, if France is to profit by their service. 
I shall send you to Alfort." 

" To Alfort, Sire ! " the boy cried. 

"Yes to Alfort, Sire," mimicked the Emperor. "But 
not to doctor horses, or to feel the pulses of pigs, Monsieur 
the Page. You shall join the cavalry class, and learn how 
to ride, and how to care for horses, as one should who, in 
time, may become a special aide to the Emperor." 

" Oh, Sire, you are too good ! " exclaimed delighted Philip. 
" It is what I most desire." 

" See, then," said the Emperor, " that you give attention to 
your duties, and heed the instruction of those set apart to 
make a man of you. For there are men, my friend, who 
really do know more than boys, though I sometimes feel that 
my pages know all there is to know or think they do." 

So Philip went to Alfort, and in that institution, since 
made into a great veterinary college, the page spent several 
months, learning the nature and needs of horses. With 
thirty other boys he received instruction in the cavalry class, 
and became a daring and expert horseman. The Polytech 
nic School also he entered, as a " special," to perfect himself 
in drawing, in topography, and in penmanship ; for the Em- 



162 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

peror had, evidently, special service in view for this protege 
of his, who, in spite of his propensity for getting into scrapes, 
was honest, plucky, and loyal the three things that would 
best combine to make a faithful follower of the Emperor. 

A pleasant thing about Alfort was its nearness to Vin- 
cennes, where Peyrolles was stationed as one of the drill- 
masters of the Pupils of the Guard. Philip frequently vis 
ited the Corporal, and often, on "leave days," he took the 
veteran to his friends in the Street of the Fight, where he 
would listen with glee to the worshiper of the Emperor, and 
the hater of the Corsican, as they debated long and loud over 
their pet topic Napoleon. 

" Cresar has become Charlemagne," Uncle Fauriel declared ; 
" and the republic is dead, indeed. Why was I not a Brutus 
years ago? Now alas! I am too fat to be deliverer or 
conspirator." 

Mademoiselle and Philip laughed merrily over the idea of 
so fat a Brutus, though Brutus was quite a portly person, 
Uncle Fauriel informed them. As for Peyrolles, he played 
a good second to Fauriel's grumbling. " Why did I leave a 
leg at Austerlitz?" he cried. " Was it to let another iniui 
step into the shoes I could no longer wear, and be made the 
duke or marshal I might have become ? " 

" Never mind, my Peyrolles," said Philip. " You are drill- 
master at Vincennes. You are helping to make dukes and 
marshals for France out of your little Pupils of the Guard." 

" Not so easy, that," said the Corporal, shaking his head. 
" I tried to make of you, young Desnouettes, at St. Cyr, a 
duke, or at least a marshal and behold you ! only a page 
yet, or perhaps a horse-doctor ! " 



WHAT MADEMOISELLE FOUND IN THE STREET 163 

"Which may not be so bad a profession after all, Old 
Mustache," cried Uncle Fauriel. "For what is the saying: 
'Set a beggar on horseback, and he will ride to destruction.' 
The Corsican is mounted already; if Philip will but keep his 
horses in good trim, the tyrant will ride all the speedier to 
the end all true patriots most desire. And out of all this 
may spring a new France, a greater republic. Good Doctor 
Philip, look to your horses' hoofs." 

The Emperor, indeed, was mounted and riding: no one yet 
could say to what end. For, as 1811 grew into 1812, the 
'war-cloud swelled in bigness, and darkened. In June, 1812, 
it burst. Napoleon crossed the river Niemen with half a 
million men. To cross that river in arms was to break the 
peace: France and Russia were at war. 

During the spring months of 1812 the Emperor had drunk 
deep of power; and Philip, too, from the Emperor's cup 
had drunk deep of glory. For, though on the eve of a war 
that was to embroil all Europe, Napoleon sought, first, to 
dazzle all Europe with his splendor, his resources, and his 
power. Six hundred thousand men followed the imperial 
eagles the mightiest army since the days of Alexander. 
He set out for the war encompassed by glittering soldiers, 
and attended by princes and kings. At Dresden he spent 
three weeks in a blaze of display, marshaling his host. Re 
ceptions, festivals, levees, audiences, balls, reviews, shows, 
and ceremonials crowded each other in dizzy succession; 
everywhere orders gleamed and diamonds blazed; and where 
he who once had starved himself as a sub-lieutenant now 
held state as a monarch, sovereign princes flocked to do honor 
to this " Marvel of the Age," and vassal kings stood as sup- 



164 



A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIEE 



pliants in the palace of him whom men called " The New 



Agamemnon." 



Amid all this homage, Napoleon kept his head. While 
the French served him with idolatry, and the Allies with 




"NAPOLEON PULLED THE PAGE'S HAIR VIGOROUSLY IN 
APPRECIATION OF THE JOKE." 

adulation, he sought to give no visible sign of superiority; 
he could even see the funny side of it all. For one day 
Philip the page, delaying an answer he should have brought 
with speed, met the Emperor's impatient demand : " How, 
then, you page ! what are your legs for ? Why are you 
late ? " 



WHAT MADEMOISELLE FOUND IN THE STEEET 165 

True to his habit, Philip straightway told the truth. 

" Sire," he replied, " I could not help it. I came with the 
answer straight. But out here in the antechamber I got 
tangled up in a lot of kings, and had to just crowd my way 
through them to get in." 

Whereat Napoleon laughed, and pulled the boy's ear and 
hair so vigorously, in his appreciation of the joke, that the 
tears fairly started in the page's eyes. 

For, as you see, Philip was in the thick of it all. Eecalled 
from his studies to grace the progress to Dresden as one of 
the imperial pages, the boy Philip had been a part of the 
display that attended it, and, much to his disgust, was sent 
back to Paris when the Emperor sounded the advance " On 
to Moscow ! " and the Empress returned, by way of Prague, 
to her palace in France. 

In France there was much unrest. The Emperor was fif 
teen hundred miles away, and nearly every household had 
been drawn upon for soldiers to fight against Eussia. At 
first came tidings of victories. Then bulletins fell off; news 
came less regularly ; anxiety and rumors filled the air. None 
knew what to believe; and though, from the heart of Kussia, 
Napoleon ruled France, the people of France were uneasy, 
and wished their Emperor were back again, with all the 
brave Frenchmen whom he had led to the war. 

But to Philip, dividing his time between his special studies 
at the Polytechnic School and his duties as a page of the 
palace, there came but little of this unrest. While the 
fathers and mothers of France were waiting anxiously for 
bulletins, sticking pins in their maps of Eussia at every place 
mentioned in the news that came home, and thus following 

' o 



166 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIEE 

the advance of the troops, the boys of France were puffed up 
with glory, and longing for the day when they might be old 
enough to join the Young Guard, and march to victory with 
their never-conquered Emperor. Philip's only feeling of un 
easiness lay in the fear that the war might close before the 
Emperor should summon him to the field. Indeed, he plead 
hard for permission to go east on special service, when a relay 
of couriers bore from the palace of Versailles to the camp 
before Moscow a gift the Emperor would prize the most, the 
portrait of his dearly-loved son, the little King of Rome. 

Philip coveted that mission. It would bring him into the 
heart of the war ; it would carry him close to his Emperor ; 
it would call from the lips of the man from whom praise 
sounded sweetest, thanks and commendation. 

But Philip could not have his will in this. Other swift 
riders than the heedless page bore the precious gift from the 
heart of France to the heart of Eussia, and Philip heard, alike 
with interest and envy, how delighted with the portrait Na 
poleon had been, how royally the couriers were thanked, and 
how, in the camp, the portrait of the baby King was publicly 
displayed, while all about and before it gathered the grizzled 
veterans of many battle-fields to admire and do homage to 
the baby son of their " Little Corporal." 

So, when this desire failed him, Philip was certain that the 
Russians would be completely conquered before he could 
even have " a drive at them." This fear he confided often 
to Corporal Peyrolles, and almost as frequently to Made 
moiselle. 

Peyrolles applauded "my boy," as he called Philip; but 
Mademoiselle was full of anxieties, conjured alike from Citi- 



WHAT MADEMOISELLE FOUND IN THE STREET 167 

zen Daunou's gloomy forebodings and young Philip's extrav 
agant notions. 

These occupied her thoughts one bright October morning 
in this year of 1812, when, accompanied by her old nurse, 
Marcel, now grown into a sort of chaperon to the young girl 
who had been her charge from babyhood, she set out for a 
walk from the Street of the Fight to the straggling Street of 
the Suburb of St. Anthony. For, in that quarter of the city, 
in the funny old streets (long since swept away by change) 
known as the Pig-sty and the Tree of Cracow, lived certain 
poor pensioners , to whom Mademoiselle was a helpful angel 
of mercy. 

She had passed the towering plaster elephant of the Bas 
tille (that ambitious memorial of tyranny overthrown, de 
signed by the Emperor, but never to be changed into bronze 
as he intended), and had almost reached the dingy side street 
known as the Little Picpus, when a carriage, dashing fu 
riously down the Street of St. Anthony, almost overturned 
her as she was picking her way across the foaming gutter ; 
for it had rained heavily in Paris the night before. 

Bulky Nurse Marcel caught at the girl's arm. Before she 
had done so, however, an alert young fellow, stockily built, 
caught Mademoiselle's other arm, and drew her back to the 
pavement and Nurse Marcel's care. But while her rescuer 
had one eye for the girl, he had, also, another for the occu 
pant of the hurrying carriage. 

" So, Mademoiselle," he said, " that was a narrow escape. 
And you could have secured no redress, had you been hurt. 
Tt was the carriage of the Prefect of the Seine. He rides as 
if sent for. Something is afoot." 

" Thank you so much," Mademoiselle said prettily. " I 



168 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

did not see him coming. Even when one is sent for, one 
need not ride so furiously, and scare people half out of their 
wits." 

" Ah, Mademoiselle," the boy declared with amusing im 
portance, " when one is, like us, in an official station, one 
must do many things that do not seem gentle even to 
running down pretty girls, out for an airing." 

" Mademoiselle, to me ! " came Nurse Marcel's warning 
voice. But Mademoiselle was inquisitive, and was now 
determined to hear more from this young official. 

" And you are an official, then, Monsieur ? " she asked the 
big boy. 

"A deputy doorkeeper at La Force, Mademoiselle," he 
replied. 

" La Force ? the prison ? Then you must know Pierre. 
I mean Pierre Labeau a boy on duty there." 

" I am that Pierre Labeau, at your service, Mademoiselle. 
And you ?" 

" Oh, we have heard of you so often from Philip ! Have 
we not, Nurse ? This is Monsieur Philip's friend, Pierre." 

" And a very forward young man he is ! " cried Nurse 
Marcel. " Come away with me at once, Mademoiselle." 

" Monsieur Philip ! " cried Pierre. " Is it, then, young 
Desnouettes, the page, of whom you speak ? Then you 
you, Mademoiselle, perhaps, are " 

" Mademoiselle Lucie Daunou, of the Street of the Fight," 
said the girl. 

" But not Citizen Daunou's daughter is she now, Nurse?" 
Pierre demanded, so quickly, indeed, that Nurse Marcel 
flushed, and said sharply, " And why not ? Who else, Mon 
sieur Stupid ? Why, I have known her ever since the day 



WHAT MADEMOISELLE FOUND IN THE STREET 169 

Citizen Daunou brought her to his home bah, then ! what 
am I saying ? " she cried in startled confusion. 

" Brought me me ! Why, what are you saying, Nurse ? 
What does it mean, that ? " Mademoiselle cried. " I never 
heard of it ! Oh ! but what is this ? " 

It was a bit of torn paper blown by the wind into the girl's 
hand. Even in her surprise at Nurse Marcel's words, Made 
moiselle's curiosity as to the bit of torn paper displaced her 
first inquisitiveness, and she spread it out to read. 

It was baffling ; for this is what she saw : 

To the Count Frochat, Prefect 
he Seine, wherever he may be found. 
Hide with speed I 

GENERAL HEADQUARTERS, 

PLACE VENDOME. 
23d October, 1812, 

6 o'clock, A. M. 
REFECT. I have the honor to 
py of the decree of the Sen- 
nouncing the sad ti- 
of the Emperor, by a 
walls of Moscow on 
of this month of October 
on of their command, 
e the City Hall for 
provisional gov- 
the Republic 
th speed. 
LET. 

Army of 
Paris. 




"'WHAT is THAT, PIERRE?' SHE SAID, POINTING TO THE WORDS." 



WHAT MADEMOISELLE FOUND IN THE STREET 171 

" How strange ! " cried Mademoiselle. " What can it all 
mean, Pierre ? " 

The deputy doorkeeper, equally curious, took the letter, 
and scanned it curiously. 

"'The Count Frochat, Prefect of the Seine,'" he read. 
"It came from his carriage then, Mademoiselle 'decree of 
of the Senate announcing sad tidings of the Emperor 
walls of Moscow month of October the City Hall pro 
visional government the Republic Army of Paris ' why, 
what is it, then ? I said something was up. Something is ! " 

He turned the torn paper over, puzzled enough. Made 
moiselle's sharp eyes caught sight of some bold handwriting 
on the back of the letter. 

" What is that, Pierre ? " she said, pointing to the words. 

" Fa it," the boy spelled out. " I do not know, Made 
moiselle. It is not French, this. What is it ? " 

It was not French. It was Latin. Mademoiselle read 
the two bold words, looking 'over Pierre's shoulder. " ' Fuit 
Imperator!' That means, 'The Emperor has been.' The 
Emperor has been ? Oh, Pierre ! What have I found ?" she 
cried. " The Emperor is dead ! " 

Pierre excitedly struck his hand upon the torn bit of paper. 

" So ! I see it all!" he cried. "Killed under the walls 
of Moscow! Whew! but here is a tangle, though!" 

And without a word of adieu the deputy doorkeeper 
turned sharply, and dashed down the Street of the Suburb of 
St. Anthony, heading as straight as its crowded ways would 
permit for the City Hall and the " General Headquarters " 
in the Place Vendome. 



CHAPTEE XIV 

WHY PHILIP WAS MAD AT THE CLEKK OF THE WEATHER 

MADEMOISELLE stood for a moment looking after the 
flying Pierre. Then she said : " Oh, that poor little 
baby ! Why, he is emperor now ! Come with me, Nurse. 
I must go to the palace and tell Philip. Perhaps he does 
not know it, and he might wish to hear of it in time." 

" But we are not for palaces, Mademoiselle," Nurse Marcel 
objected. "How would I be received there I, the widow 
.of a sansculotte ? They will send me to La Force, if they do 
but know that once I was ' Citizeness ' and danced the Car 
magnole." 

"Never fear that, Nurse," Mademoiselle reassured her 
companion. " They cannot know ; and I I must see Philip." 

So, grumbling still, Nurse Marcel turned with the young 
girl, and together they hastened westward ; for, though the 
Empress was at St. Cloud, Philip's duties were largely at the 
Tuileries when he was not at the Polytechnic School. 

Mademoiselle saw that soldiers were marching that way, 
and that in the City Hall Square the whole Tenth Cohort 
was drawn up before the city building. Clearly something 
had happened. 

At the palace Mademoiselle soon found Philip. To him 

172 



WHY PHILIP WAS MAD 173 

she told the news. Had he heard it ? she asked. Was it 
not dreadful ? 

" Dreadful ? Why, it is never true," Philip declared. " The 
bullet is not made that can kill the Emperor. The letter 
was a trick. Wait here a moment, Mademoiselle. Let me 
report what you tell me, and inquire." 

He returned speedily. 

" Something is wrong," he said. " The square is filling 
with soldiers. The horse-guards have just galloped to St. 
Cloud. Every one seems mystified. Strange things, they 
say, have happened. The Minister of Police has been locked 
up in La Force. So, too, has Pasquier, the prefect. The 
commander of the Paris garrison has been assassinated. The 
City Hall is surrounded ; the Ministry of War is in the hands 
of the republicans ; the Senate, it is said, has issued a decree 
announcing the death of the Emperor, and proclaiming the 
Republic." 

" The Republic ! " exclaimed Mademoiselle. " Why, Philip, 
how may that be ? If the Emperor is dead, the little King 
of Rome is Emperor. Why should the republicans have the 
power ? Dear me ! I hope my father is not in it all. Of 
course Uncle Fauriel is." 

" For all they say, I will not believe it," Philip declared. 
" The Emperor dead ! How absurd ! The Emperor cannot 
die. What would become of France ? " 

"Why, Philip, I suppose emperors have died before," 
Mademoiselle suggested. 

" But not T/ie Emperor," said Philip, proudly. " But, true 
or not, I am in a muddle ; and what a ferment will France 
be in ! So, too, will the city. Were it not wise, Mademoi- 



174 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

selle, for me to conduct you, and Nurse here, to the Street 
of the Fight or at least to Citizen Daunou's safe-keeping 
in the Archives ? The streets will soon be in an uproar." 

So, dodging the crowds that thronged the streets, and yet, 
with the curiosity of youth, unwilling to let slip any chance 
of seeing what was afoot, the young people, with Nurse Mar 
cel clutching at Mademoiselle's arm, arrived at last at the 
Palace of the Archives in the Street of the Wheat-field. 

There, in his office, they found the good Keeper of the 
Archives, as cool and as calm as ever, poring over his dusty 
documents, and apparently indifferent to all the rumors and 
excitement that filled the city. 

Breathless, they told what Mademoiselle had found, and 
what Philip had heard. 

" The Emperor dead ? That is now but ancient history, 
my children," remarked the old Keeper. " Was I in it ? No ; 
nor yet Uncle Fauriel. Do you take us for lunatics, you 
two ? Why, it was but a scare and a sell. And yet, it might 
have proved a tragedy that I will admit. But, bless you 
both ! the Emperor is as alive as you or I ; and the hot-heads, 
the crazy-pates, who sought to raise an insurrection, are safe, 
now, under lock and key. Yes, it was nearly accomplished 
that I may not deny ; but by a lucky chance or shall we 
say an unlucky one? who can tell? by a lucky chance 
let us call it, the plot failed ; and thanks to whom, think you ? 
To your friend Pierre, my Philip Pierre, the deputy door 
keeper of La Force. He is the hero of the hour. I have 
but just heard the whole story. That crazy-pate Malet, late 
general under the Republic, you must have heard Uncle 
Fauriel tell of him, was at the bottom of it all ; and now he 



WHY PHILIP WAS MAD 175 

is in prison once more, and his life is not worth a button. 
So, come, get you back to home and duty, my children. It 
is but an incident. See it is over. Leave me to my 
papers." 

Citizen Daunou was right. It was but an incident, but it 
well-nigh proved an event. A cleverly laid plot against the 
Empire, which included an announcement of the Emperor's 
death, a forged decree of the Senate, a surprise of the heads 
of departments, and the transfer of all commands to the con 
spirators, had been so skilfully carried out that it would have 
succeeded but for the quick eye of Pierre, the deputy door 
keeper of La Force. 

The account of the attempt is one of the most dramatic 
chapters in the Napoleonic story ; but, save for Pierre's con 
nection with it, the conspiracy of General Malet, as it is 
called, has no especial bearing upon our narrative. It was 
one of those historic oddities that might have changed the 
world's history had it succeeded. But it failed ; and, to-day, it 
is almost forgotten, though certain foolish and certain brave 
men paid with their lives for their connection with it. 

Philip lost no time in hunting up Pierre at La Force. 
From him he learned the details of that lynx-eyed young 
fellow's part in the drama. 

" After I left Mademoiselle," the deputy doorkeeper said, 
" I hurried to the City Hall. I could learn nothing certain ; 
but that homely little commander Laborde you know him, 
my Philip, that bunged-up aide-de-camp of Doucet the adju 
tant he spied me. ' Here, then, you Labeau, come with me 
to headquarters,' he said ; ' you may be of service to me.' You 
see, he knew I was on duty at La Force, and I suppose he 



176 A BOY OF THE FIKST EMPIRE 

thought if he should happen to be arrested and sent there, it 
would be well to be in my care. So to headquarters we 
went in the Place Yendome. The troops were all about 
the building, and the sentries would not let us pass. Our 
little Laborde cried: ' Fools ! I am here on duty. Let me 
enter.' And they did. We went to the adjutant's office. 
Laborde left me without. I heard high words. Then La 
borde called me. I broke past the sentry at the door, and 
entered. Doucet the adjutant was there ; Laborde was there ; 
a man in a general's uniform was there. I looked at him. 
I knew him. ' What, General Malet ! ' I said, ' you here ? 
Who gave you leave to quit La Force ! ' My faith, Philip ! 
He was one of my prisoners Malet the republican, from the 
prison hospital. Oh, but he was mad ! ' Fool ! ' he hissed 
at me. ' Fool, yourself ! ' said I. ' Here is something wrong, 
gentlemen. This is an escaped prisoner. Arrest him, and I 
will go for the Minister of Police.' With that, the runaway 
tried to pull his pistol. We jumped at him and pinned him 
down. ' An escaped lunatic ? ' asked Doucet the adjutant, 
as he sat on the fallen general. ' And the decree of the Sen 
ate ? ' he asked. ' Forged, Monsieur the Adjutant,' I said ; 
' it must be a forged decree. This Malet is a clever lunatic.' 
Laborde ran to the window. ' A trick ! a trick ! ' he cried. 
< The Emperor is not dead. To your barracks, soldiers ! The 
Emperor lives, I say ! You have been sold by a lunatic ! ' 
That is all there is to it, my Philip. The plot is discovered. 
The scare is over. Malet is in La Force, and I 

" You have saved France, Pierre," Philip cried, hugging 
the deputy doorkeeper in delight. 

" Well perhaps. Thanks to your Mademoiselle Daunou 



WHY PHILIP WAS MAD 177 

if she is Daunou," said Pierre. " If Mademoiselle had not 
found that bit of torn paper in the Street of St. Anthony, I 
should not have been on hand ; I should not have recognized 
Malet ; he would have succeeded, and whew, though ! what 
a tangle we should have been in ! " 

Philip felt proud of his friends. Mademoiselle and Pierre 
had saved the Empire, and won the thanks of the. Emperor. 

" Long life to both of you ! " he cried. " Pierre, you will 
get your step." 

Pierre did get his step. For when the Emperor returned 
to Paris, Pierre was made a police inspector, the youngest 
on the force, -and he received the thanks of the Emperor. 

" You were the only one, you boy," said Napoleon, " among 
all those imbeciles in power, that had eyes, and could see : 
that had brains, and could use them. I said you were clever. 
I was right. My faith ! if you were but old enough I would 
make you Minister of Police. You are the best duke among 
them all." 

For, you see, Napoleon did come back. That coming back 
is historic. The world has not yet finished talking of it. 

Philip was on hand when it happened. It was December 
18, in that eventful year of 1812. Paris was depressed. France 
was distressed. The world was astonished. Only the day 
before there had been made public a bulletin from the army 
in Russia, in which the Emperor told France that he had not 
succeeded in conquering Russia. He had not lost a battle. 
His soldiers had been brave and heroic. But the weather 
had proved their enemy. The cold had been so intense that 
men and horses had perished. Order had been lost. Woe 
and disaster fell upon the armies of France. The Cossacks 



178 A BOY OF THE FIBST EMPIRE 

had harried them. In recrossing the Beresina Eiver many 
had been drowned. But the Emperor was alive and well. 

Men shook their heads gravely over this unexpected news. 
But boys are ever hopeful. Philip had said : " Ah ! the Em 
peror is there. He will soon set matters right." And he had 
thought but little of disaster. For his Emperor had never 
known defeat ! He never could know it ! 

It was half-past eleven o'clock on the night of December 
18. Philip was on duty at the Tuileries. At his post out 
side the drawing-room of the Empress he sat nodding, half 
asleep. 

Suddenly he started to his feet. The sound of voices in 
dispute, as if demanding an entrance, came to his ears. They 
were in the corridor below him, at the very entrance to the 
palace. 

The door of the antechamber in which the listening page 
was stationed was flung open. Two men hurried in. They 
were wrapped in furs, and looked rough and excited. 

" Is it a new plot ? " Philip wondered. Beyond him were 
the apartments of the Empress and the little King of Eome 
the heir to the Empire. Philip's breath came fast. His 
heart beat excitedly. He was but a boy, he thought, but he 
would defend the Empress with his life. 

" Stand back, sirs ! " he cried. " This is the apartment of 
the Empress. None may enter here ! " 

He had no weapon at hand, but he caught up a chair, and 
threatened the strangers, blocking their advance. 

" What, boy ! Why, young Desnouettes," cried the smaller 
of the two men, " do you not know me ? " 

It was the Emperor ! Philip almost dropped in surprise. 




'"STAND BACK, SIRS,' HE CRIED. 'THIS IS THE APARTMENT OF THE EMPRESS.'' 



WHY PHILIP WAS MAD 181 

" You, Sire ?" he exclaimed in amazement. "And the Rus 
sians ? Are they defeated already ! " 

" Already ? " the Emperor repeated, almost sadly, placing 
a hand upon the boy's head. " We are alone. You are a 
brave boy, you Philip. Come, Cauliancourt." 

And, without another word, the Emperor and his equerry 
pushed past the page, and entered the drawing-room of the 
Empress. 

Philip was puzzled. The Emperor ? and alone ? He could 
not understand it all. 

But too soon he did. And so did France. Napoleon had 
suffered his first defeat. 

Of all that vast army, the fugitive Emperor was the only 
man who had yet returned. Thousands upon thousands of 
brave Frenchmen had left their bones bleaching upon Russian 
snows. Of the half-million men who with streaming banners 
and flashing bayonets had crossed the Niemen to conquer 
the East, only a paltry seventy thousand recrossed a tat 
tered, frost-bitten, starving, straggling, desperate, and weary 
band of defeated fugitives. The invasion of Russia was a 
terrible failure. 

It was the cold that had done it. The Clerk of the Wea 
ther had taken the field against Napoleon, and the uncon- 
quered Emperor had been vanquished by the thermometer. 

That was what he declared. That was what Philip ac 
cepted ; and, with many a sigh and many a bitter thought, 
the boy, who believed so firmly in the prowess and puissance 
of his Emperor, blamed the Clerk of the Weather and cried, 
" Hard luck ! This General Frost is a beast ! If only, now, 
the weather were a man, how the Emperor would have beaten 
him ! " 



182 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

Poor Philip ; poor France ; poor Emperor ! Malet's con 
spiracy and Russian frosts were to begin a new chapter in 
the history of their homeland, and bring, to all three, changes 
and adventures of which none of them had ever dreamed. 



CHAPTEE XV 

THE PRISONEK OF FONTAINEBLEAU 

IN the days of discussion that followed the Emperor's 
return from Russia, Philip found his greatest comfort 
in Corporal Peyrolles. The veteran of Austerlitz would come 
stumping along the Street of the Fight, and in the quiet 
home of the Keeper of the Archives would second all Philip's 
extravagant claims as to the invincibleness of the Emperor, 
and would " have it out " with Uncle Fauriel, who pretended 
to see in the Russian disaster the vengeance of Heaven on 
the " Corsican ogre " who had, so he said, " betrayed the 
Republic." 

" Did I leave a leg at Austerlitz," demanded Corporal Pey 
rolles, " to drag the other around after a defeated Emperor ? 
No, Citizen ! It was to have one good leg left, with which to 
dance in joy over every victory. And let me tell you, I 
can dance on one leg better than some of those dukes and 
marshals at the palace can on two with all their titles. 
Faith '. but I can, Mademoiselle. See, now ! " and, catching 
Mademoiselle round the waist, the old fellow actually swung 
the girl about the room, humming meanwhile one of the lively 
airs of the camp, to keep step to. Then, while the others 
applauded, they sank into chairs, the Corporal panting and 
Mademoiselle laughing merrily. 

183 



184 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

" You see, Peyrolles is good for something yet," said the 
Corporal. " And as for the leg, Citizen," he cried to Uncle 
Fauriel, " it has been a good republican leg ; yes, I grant you 
that. But it was a good First Consulate leg; and it is a 
good^ Empire leg, too. For, look you, it is the Emperor's 
leg ! " and he slapped his one sound limb so heartily that 
Mademoiselle and Philip laughed aloud, and the page cried 
enthusiastically, " Long live the leg ! Corporal Peyrolles's 
one is better than the Czar's million ! " 

" True for you, my Philip ! " said the Corporal. " What is 
a Cossack's leg good for but to run away with ? or a Prus 
sian's ? or an Englisher's ? or the leg of any enemy of the 
Emperor ? I said to the Little Corporal the night before 
Marengo I stood on guard in front of his tent that night 
' General,' I said, ' strike 'em on the flank, and they '11 run 
with all the legs they have left.' And they did ! ' Pey 
rolles,' said the Little Corporal to me the night after Ma 
rengo I was on guard before his tent that night, too 
' Peyrolles,' he said, ' your advice was good. Did you see 'em 
run ? ' 'I did, my General,' said I, ' I knew they would. Do 
you keep at it, and you will have all Europe running.' And, 
my faith ! run they have. From that day to this." 

" But the Corsican's legs are sound yet, my Corporal," said 
Uncle Fauriel, " and he is running too. He is running to 
destruction, and dragging all France with him." 

" Bah ! " cried Corporal Peyrolles. " It is the home-made 
dukes and marshals who are running that way if any one 
is : with their thirst for titles and their greed for riches. 
Reduce 'em to the ranks, I say ; reduce 'em to the ranks ! and 
put true men in their place even if they should be one- 



THE PRISONER OF FONTAINEBLEAU 185 

legged ones. Then I '11 back the Little Corporal against all 
Europe, and Russia in the bargain." 

For Corporal Peyrolles would never admit that the Rus- 
sians were Europeans. " They 're Cossacks," he said ; " and 
a Cossack is a pagan. Scratch him, and every time you '11 
find a Tartar underneath. That 's what the Emperor says, 
and so say I." 

But Citizen Daunou said : " Ah, my friends, it is not a 
question of France and her salvation. If the Emperor will 
but be warned by this Eussian disaster ; if he will but heed 
the wail going up from thousands of French homes ; if he 
will but keep friendship with Austria or Prussia or the Con 
federates of the Rhine ; if he will but remember that a single 
card may lose as well as win the game, France may not need 
to stand at bay against all Europe ; and both the Empire 
and the Emperor may be saved. It is wise, when your ship 
is drifting toward the breakers, to throw something overboard, 
and thus save ship and cargo. But, alas ! the Emperor never 
was anything of a sailor. He will crowd on sail, and head 
straight for the rocks." 

Philip did not believe this. He thought his old friend was 
what to-day we call an " alarmist." Philip was, indeed, a 
boy of the Empire. He had faith in Napoleon as the greatest 
man in all the world. To him Napoleon was France ; France 
was the Empire ; and the Empire would one day be Europe. 
So, as much as any boy cares to think on such questions, 
Philip thought the future was clear. He believed that the 
Russian campaign had, indeed, been a victory. Did not Na 
poleon plant the eagles 011 the walls' of Moscow ? And what 
is that but victory ? He knew that the Emperor would yet 



186 A BOY OF THE FIEST EMPIRE 

humble Europe, punish Eussia, and give new glory to France 
as conqueror and as ruler. 

On January 1, 1813, at the Emperor's New Year's day re 
ception, Philip saw only the greatness and glory of Napoleon. 
Alike at review and fete that ushered in that disastrous year 
for France, this optimistic and vivacious young page was full 
of boastfulness as to the Emperor's invincibleness and " the 
Emperor's luck." 

France was arming again. Almost drained of men for the 
struggle with Eussia, she was now girding herself anew 
for a death-grapple with all Europe. Old men and young 
men, veterans and boys, filled the ranks. The shattered regi 
ments were refilled. The Young Guard, drawn from the 
freshest blood of France, was formed into squadrons and bat 
talions in blue ; and Napoleon, looking at his new fighting- 
men that France had given him, cried with pleasure as they 
passed in review before him : " Ah, with these one may con 
quer every one and everywhere ! " 

The Emperor was continually on the go in those busy days. 
And so, too, was Philip. For the page, growing in strength 
and favor, was constantly in attendance on the Emperor 
at the palaces, in the city, at the hunt, and in the home 
apartments. 

Here, on a certain January day, as he was helping the 
Emperor put on his coat of green and gold, Philip overheard 
Napoleon say to his confidant, the Marshal of the Palace : 
" To-morrow we hunt at Grosbois, Duroc. We must keep 
moving. I must be active, so that the newspapers will talk 
of it, and the English, who say I am sick, will see that they 
lie. Sick ! I never was better, Duroc. But I am getting too 



THE PRISONER OF FONTAINEBLEAU. 187 

fat, my friend, and action makes one thinner. Have 
patience. I will soon show Europe that I am the healthiest 
man alive." 

There was no doubt as to the truth of this statement. The 
Emperor was growing fat. The thin and sickly -looking con 
queror of Arcola and Marengo had grown into the fat and 
" well-groomed " lord of the land ; and even Philip's loyalty 
could not deny that some day his hero and idol might even be 
as fat as Uncle Fauriel. But he hoped not. 

Philip was glad of the hunting at Grosbois. He revelled 
in the action and excitement of the chase, and could manage 
to cover more ground, and be in more places at once, than 
any page of his size in the imperial train. So he was on 
hand betimes next morning when, with but a few attendants, 
the Emperor rode toward the barriers, on his way to join the 
Empress and certain of the court at Grosbois, the estate of 
Prince Berthier, near Melun, some thirty miles from Paris. 

As they rode along the crowded Street of the Suburb of 
St. Anthony, that street in which Mademoiselle had found 
the famous bit of torn paper that had led to the knowledge 
of Malet's plot, Philip saw a boy not much older than 
himself spring from the watching crowd straight in the 
Emperor's path. 

"Is it, then, an assassination?" Philip asked himself. "The 
Emperor is in danger ! " And, quick as thought, he sprang 
from his horse and seized the boy's arm. 

But the Emperor said : " Hold, there, young Desnouettes ! 
What do you wish, you boy ? " 

" My freedom ! " cried the boy. " See ! your boy-stealers 
have drawn me to fiijlit against the Cossacks. What do I 



188 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

care for the Cossacks ? My old mother is more to me. What 
do I care for your throne ? My home is dearer. My mother 
needs me more than you do. If I go, she starves. If I am 
killed, she dies. Hands off, palace-cub, Nicholas-dog ! " he 
cried to Philip. " I do not seek to kill this Bonaparte. I 
would kill no one. I would keep my skin for my mother. 
I am a Paris boy, and too good to feed Eussian wolves ! " 

The police made a dash at this boy who braved the Em 
peror ; but from the crowd came threatening cries : " Touch 
him not, prison-sheep ! " " Yah ! Bonaparte ! Nicholas ! 
give us peace ! We have had fighting enough ! " 

The police faced the crowd. The Emperor sat calm and 
immovable. Then, with a rush such as is known only to 
Paris mobs, the crowd made a dash for the prisoner. The 
police were forced off; Philip was rolled over in the mud, 
and when he struggled to his feet the boy was gone, while 
cries of delight and derision came from the victorious crowd. 
There had been a rescue, and the conscript had been smuggled 
away by his friends. 

And still the Emperor sat immovable. This was a new 
experience for him. But it was not his policy, just now, to 
antagonize the people. His success depended upon their 
agreeing to his demands. 

" Let the boy go," he said. " The fools do not know what 
they want. A mob is but a pig, and you police bah ! you 
are imbeciles. To horse, my page ; ride on, gentlemen ! And 
you," this to the discomfited police, "let not this thing 
happen again." 

Bent on his purpose, Napoleon would not listen to the 
voice of his people. They might be tired of war ; so, too, 



THE PBISONER OF FONTAINEBLEAU 189 

was he. But with' one end in view supremacy he could 
ignore both his own and the people's wish. Incidents like 
this had, therefore, but little weight with him. " It is but a 
yell of the mob," he said ; " I will quiet it by a victory. My 
hope is in my army." 

So they rode on to Grosbois the "great wood" where 
was the villa of Prince Berthier, that dragoon captain who 
had fought for American freedom under Lafayette, had de 
fended King Louis of France in the days of the Terror, and 
had helped Bonaparte win his way to a throne. And there, 
on the edge of the great forest of Fontainebleau, they hunted 
the boar that January afternoon, and Philip had a glorious 
time. 

Flushed with the excitement of the chase, he rode hither 
and thither, in close attendance on the Emperor. This touch 
of danger and uncertainty just suited the boy. 

But once, when the prickers had driven the big boar straight 
toward the imperial spear, Philip was surprised to see the 
Emperor, forgetful of the sport, with his head bent and his 
reins slack on his horse's neck, lost in thought. 

" On guard, Sire ! " cried the page. " The pig will escape 
you." And, fearing this, he dashed forward to head off the 
beast and drive him back for the Emperor's spear. 

"Eh? So, boy! I was thinking. I had the Prussians 
almost cornered. Kill the pig yourself." 

Philip sought to do this, but he had lost his chance. 
His horse turned about sharply ; the boar, darting between 
the horse's legs, disconcerted the steed ; it snorted, reared, 
and plunged, and over on his head went Monsieur the Page. 
The boar turned to charge, and the Emperor, now aroused 



190 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

from his reverie, at once saw the boy's danger. Spurring his 
horse to the spot, with an expert plunge of the spear lie ran 
the boar through, just as its murderous tusks were within an 
ace of impaling the prostrate page. 

" Why, Philip ; why, boy ! " cried the Emperor ; "your train 
ing at Alfort must have been poor. Can you not keep your 
saddle better than that ? How can you expect, then, to ride 
a cavalry charge ? " 

Philip rose, feeling very small indeed. Thrown by a mob ! 
Thrown by a pig ! This was not exactly a day of laurels for 
Monsieur the Page. But the Emperor cried gaily : " 'T is the 
fortune of war, young Desnouettes ! Up and try it again ! " 
and, much chagrined at his clumsiness, Philip mounted his 
horse and dropped behind the Emperor. 

Next morning the talk at the grand breakfast in the castle 
of Grosbois was all of the hunt that was planned for the 
day. Horses and huntsmen were in readiness when, sud 
denly, the Emperor sprang a surprise upon the company. 

" Ladies and gentlemen," he said, " we shall not hunt to 
day. We ride to Fontainebleau." 

" To Fontainebleau, Sire ! " cried the ladies in dismay. " To 
Fontainebleau ? Why, we have only our hunting-dresses 
with us ! " 

" I weep for you, ladies," said the Emperor, in mock sym 
pathy ; " but such are my plans. The Holy Father will, I 
am sure, excuse your hunting-dress. Boy Philip, is the post- 
chaise ready for me ? " 

" It waits in the court, Sire," Philip replied. 

" Good," said the Emperor. " Do you, then, mount your 
horse and gallop on ahead to the palace. Tell Monsieur the 



I 



THE PRISONER OF FONTAINEBLEAU 191 




THE EMPEROR SAVES PHILIP FROM THE BOAR. 

Chamberlain that I shall be there within the hour. But let 
him on no account acquaint the Holy Father of my coining. 
Now, then, off with speed ! Eide on, boy ; ride on ! " 

It was well that Philip had snatched a hasty bit to eat 
that morning with the chief page of Prince Berthier. Other- 



192 A BOY OF THE FIEST EMPIRE 

wise lie would have gone breakfastless. For lie was 011 his 
horse in an instant, galloping through the forest to the palace 
at Fontainebleau, where, for more than a year, the Emperor 
had held a close prisoner that Pope of Rome known as Pius 
the Seventh. 

The quarrel between the Emperor and the Pope has no 
bearing on our story. Suffice it to say that when Napoleon 
assumed the sovereignty of Italy he took away from the Pope 
what is known as his temporal power the right to rule the 
States of the Church as a landed prince. And when that 
spirited old Pontiff objected to Napoleon's ways, the Emperor 
stole him bodily first from Rome, and then from Savona, 
until finally he shut the Pope up in this palace of Fontaine- 
bleau until such time as the Holy Father would yield to the 
imperial will. This the Pope refused to do ; and, living the 
life of a recluse in that great gilded palace, he had come to 
be known to men as the Prisoner of Fontainebleau. 

Through the crisp winter's morning Philip rode on to Fon 
tainebleau. Into the wide forest he galloped ; on under its 
great leafless trees ; on past the meadows, lawns, and cliffs 
that make the forest of Fontainebleau one of the world's 
picture-spots ; on past the Cross of the Specter Huntsman, 
the Gorge of the Wolf, the Pool of the Elves, the Miraculous 
Weeping Rock, and the Robbers' Cave, up the Grand Prome 
nade of the Queen, and so through the great gardens into the 
splendid Court of the White Horse. Here he threw his reins 
to the groom, and sought in the palace Monsieur the Captain 
Lagrosse of the Imperial Guard, who, while really the jailer, 
posed as the chamberlain of the Prisoner of Fontainebleau. 

Philip delivered his message. At once there was the bustle 



THE PRISONER OF FONTAINEBLEAU 193 

of preparation. Not for a year and more had the Emperor 
or his court been seen at the great palace. 

Philip, left to his own devices, wandered through the 
splendid building, prying into the magnificent rooms, in which 
kings and queens had held high festival in days gone by 
and wondering, boy-like, as he peeped and pried, in just what 
rooms the captive Pope of Borne lived in priestly state. 

Along a wide hall that looked out upon the Court of the 
Fountain, Philip strolled and loitered, trying door after door 
in his curiosity. One of these opened to his touch, and the 
page, passing through, found himself in a little room that 
looked like a very plain and poorly furnished bed-chamber. 
Within the room a spare and pleasant-faced man sat, busy 
with needle and thread, mending a pair of breeches. 

" Eh, there ! Grandfather," cried the heedless page. " I 
knew no one was here. Could you tell me, you now, where 
one might see the prisoner ? " 

" The prisoner, my son ? " the old man repeated, looking at 
the boy in gentle inquiry. 

" I mean the Pope, the Pope Pius," explained Philip ; 
" he whom men call the Prisoner of Fontainebleau." 

" I am that unfortunate, my son," said the old man, rising. 
" What would you with me ? Speak. I am the Pope." 

"You the Pope! You and in this mean little room 
mending old clothes like that ! Oh, Father your Holiness, 
forgive me ! I I did not know " and down on his knees 
before this sweet-faced old man dropped the prying page, 
now deeply mortified at his heedlessness of speech and act. 



CHAPTER XVI 

FOR FRANCE 

AT that moment a voice was heard in the outer room 
/"\_ into which the prisoner's apartment opened; then 
came the sound of swinging doors and hurrying feet. 

The Pope, living in an atmosphere of uncertainty, gave 
quick ear to the disturbance. He drew away his hand from 
the head of the kneeling boy, and looked with anxious in 
quiry into Philip's upturned face. Did this boy's presence, 
this sudden noise of intrusion, mean a new danger for him ? 
Recollections flashed across him of how a conqueror had, 
in earlier days, dared, with gauntleted hand, to buffet a Pope 
in the face, and how that very room in which he sat had, long 
years ago, been the apartment of that stanch Archbishop 
Thomas a Becket, whom an English king had murdered at 
the very altar. He threw aside the well-worn breeches he 
had been mending, and stood erect, defiance and resignation 
curiously mingled on his face. 

Philip, too, sprang to his feet. 

" It is the Emperor ! " he cried. 

" The Emperor ? here ? " echoed Pope Pius. He strode 
to the door and flung it open. There, in the opposite door 
way, stood his persecutor and his opponent. But not as a 
foemau, nor an assassin, did the great Emperor appear. In- 



FOE FRANCE 195 

stead, his broad, handsome face beamed with friendship ; 
from eyes and lips sprang the smiles of welcome and good 
will. Crossing the Pope's antechamber, which once had been 
the boudoir of the famous Anne of Austria, the mother of 
Louis Fourteenth, he almost ran, with extended arms, to 
where in the open doorway stood the startled Tope, with 
the troubled page behind him. 

Napoleon flung his arms about the Pontiff. 

" My father ! " he cried, and kissed him on the cheek. 

" My son ! " the Pope responded, tenderly but with dignity, 
and returned the embrace and the kiss. 

Thus, after years of resistance and persecution, did Pope 
and Emperor meet. Pope Pius saw only the man whom, ten 
years before, he had anointed Emperor of the French ; Na 
poleon saw but the man from whose hands he had received 
the imperial crown, and whom it was now his policy to 
reconcile ; and all seemed lovely once again. 

How, even then, the Emperor had his way, and by his own 
peculiar method forced the Pope to sign, one week later, in 
that very room, the famous agreement known as the Con 
cordat of Fontainebleau, is history, but not especially a part 
of our story. 

For nearly ten days the court remained at Fontainebleau, 
though how the Empress and her ladies managed with sim-. 
ply their hunting-dresses as their toilets the record fails to 
show. But when Napoleon rode back to Paris he had accom 
plished what his surprise-party to the Pope was intended 
to achieve. 

As for Philip, he experienced for days no little uncertainty 
and chagrin, although he managed, of course, to have a good 



190 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIEE 

time at Fontainebleau, and received many friendly words 
from the Pope he had so unceremoniously accosted. 

He had not made a dazzling success of himself, however, 
on this semi-official outing. He had been tumbled into the 
mud when he had tried to protect the Emperor from a fancied 
assassination; he had been flung heels over head and almost 
disabled on the hunting-field, when he had the chance to 
show his valor and his skill ; he had intruded most unwar 
rantably upon the privacy of a Pope, and used language of 
which he was ashamed. Certainly, as a page of the palace, 
he had displayed an ability for blundering into scrapes, in 
which only his loyalty and the Emperor's favor saved him 
from ridicule and a scolding. 

The Emperor saw this, too. For, one day, standing in the 
gorgeous vestibule that led to the private apartments of the 
Emperor, Philip was suddenly accosted by Napoleon. 

" Well, my Philip," the Emperor said, " you look big 
enough to be a man. How old now, you boy ? " 

" Seventeen next August, Sire," said the page. 

" Within the legal age for conscription, eh ? " queried the 
Emperor. " And smart and sound enough, although some 
thing of a blunderer. We must find active service for you. 
Sometimes you appear to be more a bull in a china-shop 
than a quiet page of the palace. But you do your best, you 
boy ; you do your best. We must put your overflow of spirits 
to better service for France." 

For France ! That was the Emperor's one thought now ; 
that, too, was Philip's desire, and he hailed with delight the 
promise of a change of duty. 

For France ! that was the wish alike of Emperor and peo- 



FOR FRANCE 197 

pie, though opinion as to how France would best be served 
differed with people and Emperor. With one it meant peace 
without war ; with" the other it meant peace through war. 
And the Emperor generally had his way. 

One night, after the return to the Tuileries, the page came 
with a message, searching for the Emperor. He found him 
in the rooms of the little King of Home, just as the imperial 
two-year-old was being prepared for bed. 

The Emperor raised his hand for silence as the page en 
tered the room. The little King was kneeling by his gov 
erness, good Madame de Montesquieu, saying his prayers. 
And as the page waited in the doorway, he heard these words 
lisped by the baby lips : " Bless my dear papa, Lord God ! 
and fill him with the desire to make peace for the happiness 
of France, and of us all." 

The Emperor smiled, and laid his hand tenderly on his 
son's head. He knew that the inspiration of the child's 
prayer came from the little King's governess, a devout and 
loyal Frenchwoman. 

" [ desire peace, my little one, as deeply as does any one 
in France. But how ? but how ? " he said ; and then, turn 
ing to Philip, he demanded his message. 

Next day, in the Street of the Fight, Philip told of the 
little King's prayer, and Citizen Daunou said, solemnly, 
"Out of the mouths of babes comes, sometimes, the Lord's 
truth. If but the Emperor would heed it ! But, alas ! he 
will not. He has yet to learn the grandeur of the victory 
through peace. Heaven send he may not learn it at the 
cost of his crown, his country, and his life ! " 

Pierre was there that day. The young inspector of police 



198 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

was becoming a frequent visitor at the house of the Keeper 
of the Archives, who, like the good republican he was, dis 
dained the distinctions of rank and of title, if but men were 
true at heart, and welcomed at Mademoiselle's salon all his 
friends on equal footing and with equal good will. 

Pierre beckoned the old Keeper aside. 

" I have found something, Citizen Daunou," he said, " that 
for nearly two years I have been hunting down at the Em 
peror's request, mark you. Only to-day did I unearth what 
may be the thing I seek. I found it well, no need to tell you 
where. We of the police have to go underneath as well as 
overhead, you know. Enough that I have found it. Will you 
read it, Citizen ? See if you can fit it to anything you have." 

Citizen Daunou took from Pierre's hand the piece of paper 
the inspector held out to him. It was a frayed and dingy 
slip, yellow with age, and with the appearance of having been 
torn, years before, from a larger document. The old man 
adjusted his spectacles, and read the words upon the slip. 
They were not many, but they seemed to startle him. He 
gave a glance of rapid inquiry at Pierre. Then he read the 
lines again. 

" Why ? What is it ? " he said. " This is most singular. 
This is my faith ! Pierre, it may be it is the missing 
record ! And you found it where ? " 

Pierre shrugged his shoulders. " That is my affair, Citizen," 
he said. " Does it tell you anything ? " 

Did it not, though ? For this is what good Citizen Daunou 
read on that frayed and dingy bit of paper : 

"... izen Jules Marcel of the Street of the Straight Wall, to bring 
up as good patriots and as children of the Republic." 







NAPOLEON S VETERANS VIEWING THE PORTRAIT OF THE KING OF ROME. 



FOE FRANCE 201 

" Marcel ? Marcel ? Jules Marcel ? " mused Citizen Dau- 
nou, tapping his forehead. " Why, that was the husband of 
Mademoiselle's nurse. He was a sansculotte. And from her 
must have come A light ! A light ! Pierre ! I see a 
light ! And the Emperor said I was but an owl ! I was, my 
faith ! I was. Will you give me this, lad ? I must study 
it out, and think it over. And why is it with you ? " 

" The Emperor's commission, Citizen," said the boy in 
spector. " He said to me, ' Find this out for me.' And' 
look you, I have found it." 

" Have you shown it to him yet ? " asked Citizen Daunou. 

" No, Citizen," Pierre replied ; " for have you not the rest 
of the paper ? " 

" To be sure ; so I have at the Archives," the Keeper 
admitted. "Let me but take this there and fit the pieces to 
gether; then may I unravel the tangled threads. I must 
study it out with certainty. Trust me, you shall have all 
the glory of the find, my Pierre. 

"Oh, as for that, my friend," another shrug, "if it 
solves the riddle, and does those we know a service, it is 
glory enough forme. It is my life such things as this 
riddle-solving, Citizen." 

Citizen Daunou wrung the young inspector's hand. Then 
he fell upon him, and embraced him with true French enthu 
siasm. 

" You should be minister of police, my Pierre," he said. 

" So, once, the Emperor told me," Pierre commented 
quietly. 

" You carry a wise head on those young shoulders of yours," 
the Keeper of the Archives said. " But more of this matter 



202 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

later. Come to me at the Archives on your next leave day, 
and together we will study out this mystery." 

There was no doubt that Pierre's cleverness had brought 
about an important result. But so, too, had Philip's loyalty 
led to results equally important in that young patriot's esti 
mation. For one bright day in March, as he awaited in the 
Tuileries garden the pleasure of good Madame de Montes- 
quiou, the governess of the little King of Rome, he spied the 
Emperor pacing the path, head bent, and hands behind his 
back his best-remembered attitude. 

" So, Monsieur the Page, are you there ? " he said. " T 
have been thinking of you. Almost seventeen, eh ? And 
here is all France rallying around the eagles. It is Young 
France's opportunity for glory. It shall be yours. And 
you yon, my Philip," he went on eagerly; "look now! 
You are nearly seventeen. You are sturdy and strong. 
Sometimes you play the fool, but you are true-hearted and 
faithful. You know the ways of palaces. You can read ; 
you can write ; you can ride ; you can draw plans ; you can 
foot up figures ; you can obey orders quickly and with 
brains. You are too good for a private soldier, or even a 
sub-lieutenant ; you are not good enough for a captain or a 
private secretary. You shall join my new flying squadron 
of field secretaries my unofficial aides-de-camp. You shall 
go to the wars with me as one of my new officers of ordon- 
nance." 

" Oh, Sire ! in that splendid uniform of blue and silver ? " 
cried the page. 

" Hear the boy ! " laughed the Emperor, tweaking the 
page's ear. " I give him a chance for glory, and he chatters 



FOE FRANCE 205 

about his uniform. Look, your Majesty," and he pulled Philip 
toward the little King's carriage, once again in his path, 
" here 's a fellow who thinks more of his rig-out of blue and 
silver than of France and the Emperor. What can your 
Majesty make of such a dandy ? " 

" No, no, Sire ; do not say that ! " Philip protested, flushed 
with excitement and pleasure. " But you quite took away 
my breath with your kindness. I have never dreamed of 
anything so glorious. And I ? Hear me, Sire ! I will 
serve you faithfully." 

" I believe you will try, boy Philip boy no longer, now," 
the Emperor said kindly. " See that you keep that promise. 
And remember ! It is not for me, but for France, that you 
labor. For France, the mother of us all." 

There were others besides Philip to stand up for France ; 
to shed their blood for France ; to conquer, even to die, for 
the glory of France. But there were others, forced to serve 
in the great army of three hundred thousand men which as 
if by magic had risen from the earth at the Emperor's com 
mand, who were drilling and marching against their will, 
and only because of the strong arm of military despotism. 
There were many who might willingly fight for France, but 
not for the Emperor. The nation desired peace, the Em 
peror commanded war; and many followed his eagles against 
their will. 

But let justice be done Napoleon. 

" I desire peace," he said at the opening of that battle- 
spring of 1813. " It is necessary to the world. But I will 
never make any peace which is not honorable and in con 
formity with the greatness of my Empire. Our enemies 



206 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

seek the disruption of the Empire. They proclaim universal 
war. I will conquer them, and bring peace through victory, 
and give greatness and glory to France." 

So, bent on his purpose, the Emperor hastened his prepa 
rations for war. The Empress was made Regent of France, 
to reign in his absence and in his name ; and, rank upon 
rank, the battalions in blue marched toward the Prussian 
frontier. 

On April 15, 1813, Napoleon left St. Cloud to take com 
mand of his assembled armies. 

Philip was to accompany him. The boy was full of con 
fidence and hope, and so inspired his friends with his bright 
enthusiasm that even Uncle Fauriel gave the lad his blessing, 
while Mademoiselle went into ecstasies over his fine appear 
ance, and Corporal Peyrolles was sure "his boy" would 
return a marshal at least. 

At the Tuileries the Emperor joined his staff and his 
escort of the Guard. There Philip was to meet him, and 
there, on the morning of that momentous fifteenth of April, 
the boy ordonuance-omcer reported for duty. 

Thither had come Pierre and Peyrolles to bid him good- 
by ; and, with Uncle Fauriel as escort, thither came Ma 
demoiselle, bravely smiling through her tears. 

The Emperor, in his well-known green uniform and fa 
mous cocked hat, appeared in the portal of the palace ; the 
last good-bys were being said ; and, now that the time for 
separation had actually come, Philip and Mademoiselle felt 
just a trifle awkward. 

Even the Emperor had an eye for this little scene, and 
was on the point of making some characteristic remark, 



FOR FRANCE 207 

when through the crowd burst Citizen Daimou, his chapeau 
awry, his white hair all about his ears. 

Excited and unceremonious, he cried out as soon as he 
found the little group, " It fits, Sire ! The paper fits. I am 
an owl no longer. Embrace our Philip, Mademoiselle. It 
is your right. Bid him God-speed for France ! I have 
made a discovery. You are not Mademoiselle Daunou, as 
you thought ; nor Lucie Marcel, as I thought when I adopted 
you as my daughter from the home of the sansculotte. Em 
brace our Philip, Mademoiselle. It is your duty, I say. 
For you are Mademoiselle Lucie Desnouettes. You are of 
the best blood of France. And Philip Philip is your 
In-other ! " 



CHAPTER XVII 

BROTHER AND SISTER 

IT was a dramatic method and a tremendous background 
for springing this surprise. Citizen Daunou, most 
practical and prosaic of men, could not have arranged things 
better had he studied to please the Emperor that lover of 
startling situations. 

To the brother and sister, thus theatrically made known 
to one another, the revelation was overwhelming. Philip 
turned white with surprise; Mademoiselle flushed deeply, 
then paled, as swiftly, and looked with an almost piteous 
expression upon the man she had always regarded as her 
father. 

Then came the reaction from, bewilderment to joy. 

" Is it so ? " cried Philip. 

" What ? it is Philip ? " exclaimed Mademoiselle. 

And then brother and sister fell into each other's arms. 
Citizen Daunou's eyes streamed with tears. Uncle Fauriel 
tossed his chapeau in air. Corporal Peyrolles danced on his 
one good leg, for joy. Pierre looked on with the satisfaction 
of one who had been in the secret all along, and actually 
contemplated one of the old-time hand-springs of his street- 
boy days. The Emperor walked swiftly to Citizen Daunou 
and clapped that staid old republican on the back. 



BEOTHER AND SISTER 209 

" Daunou, is this your work ? " he cried. " It is great ! 
You have exceeded my expectations." But Citizen Daunou, 
just, even in his excitement, said nothing, but waved his 
hand toward Pierre. 

Philip and Mademoiselle, still hand in hand, looked into 
eacli other's eyes, laughing and crying in the same moment. 
For them, the fate of nations, the importance of that historic 
day, the clouds of war, the peace of Europe, were all forgot 
ten. In all the world there was no one just then but Philip 
and Lucie. They had found what neither knew, what 
neither dreamed of. 

" I cannot believe it, Philip ; can you ; can you ? " cooed 
the happy girl. 

" My sister ; my sister ; my sister ! " the boy repeated, 
lingering lovingly on each word. " Tell us, tell us, my 
father," he said, turning to Citizen Daunou ; " what does all 
this mean ? I know it is the truth, but how did you find 
it out ? " 

Then the Emperor broke in : " You shall have time for 
explanation you two you three," he said. "Look you! 
People say I break up families for my own ambition. They 
say I sever them in my greed for war. They lie. When 
France demands her youth for her service I act but as her 
instrument. But here is no need for haste. Lieutenant 
Desnouettes," he said, emphasizing, to Philip's delight, the 
rank thus conferred upon him, " I grant you an unlimited 
leave of absence. Go home with your sister. When I need 
you, I will summon you to my side. No ; no words. I know 
your willingness to serve me. This is my will. Be happy, 
my children, for a brief season. I am no ogre to devour a 



210 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

new-found family though some do deem me so," he added, 
with a slap, this time, on the fat shoulders of Uncle Fauriel. 
" Take them home with you, Citizen Daunou. When Philip 
sees me again, he can tell me all that he has learned. My 
friend the inspector," this to the delighted Pierre, " I 
am proud of you. Some day you will yet be a Minister of 
Police. Adieu, my children ! " he said, placing a hand 
affectionately on the heads of 'Philip and Mademoiselle. 
" Until I need you, my Philip, wait here at home. My 
horse, Constant ! " he cried to his valet. Then, vaulting 
to his saddle, he commanded : " Forward, gentlemen ! to 
Prussia and victory ! " 

"Long live the Emperor !" rose the shout. The trumpets 
sounded ; the drums rolled ; the escort wheeled into line ; 
the green coat and the three-cocked hat disappeared in the 
distance, as out of the courtyard of the Tuileries and oft' 
toward the barriers, the Emperor and his glittering escort 
galloped through the applauding streets of Paris, off, for the 
war. 

So it came to pass, after all, that Philip did not go to the 
front with the Emperor, and Citizen Daunou said in a whisper 
to Pierre : 

" Did I not do it well, my friend ? I have known this 
you know for how many days. But I planned it for a de- 
noument; and, my faith ! my little plan worked even better 
than I had hoped." For a staid and sober citizen, the kind 
old Keeper of the Archives had certainly shown himself a 
clever and shrewd conspirator. 

Still wondering, still hand in hand, the brother and sister 
walked back to the Street of the Fight. And there, while 



BEOTHEE AND SISTEE 211 

all the air was electric with excitement and the presage of 
battle, they passed the days in close companionship, careless 
of the future, happy in the knowledge and enjoyment of 
their new relationship, and making Citizen Daunou tell them, 
again and again, the story of how he had unravelled the 
mystery and given them, thus, to each other. 

The delighted old Keeper never wearied of the tale. He 
knew that he had done a good thing and one that would bear 
retelling. He told them of their father, the emigrd the 
man who had died for a principle, almost the last victim of 
the tyrants of the Terror. He told them how Nurse Marcel, 
the widow of the sansculotte, had, through fear of the con 
sequences, passed off Mademoiselle as her daughter, when 
Citizen Daunou had adopted the baby girl into his home, and 
how she had lived with her as nurse and companion. He 
told how he had found the document that had established 
Philip's identity and given him a clue to the discovered re 
lationship. He told of the missing part of the record and 
the Emperor's knowledge of the affair; and he gave to Pierre 
the inspector all the credit and glory for the discovery that 
completed the reading of the riddle. 

And then he had to tell it all over again ; while Philip 
and Mademoiselle sat, listening, hand in hand, and Pierre, 
listening also, nudged Philip excitedly and said, " Not so bad 
for ' that pig of a Pierre,' was it now, young Desnouettes ? " 

Babette, too, Philip's young foster-sister, came in for her 
share of the enjoyment, and even Mother The'rese, sly and 
gruff though she was, had to hear the recital and tell her 
part of the story, and how the Directory gave her this boy 
to bring up ; what a good boy he always was (though Philip 



212 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

wondered when she found that out!), and how she had always 
said he would be a great man before he died. 

So the days passed, happily, quietly, joyfully. Then 
came news from the front to increase the general joy. The 
Emperor had marched to new and glorious victories. At 
Llitzen and at Bautzen he had met and conquered his foes. 
Triumph was in the air. Peace was surely at hand. All 
Europe would soon be at the feet of the conqueror. In 
spite of the Russian campaign the Emperor was again 
supreme. 

Paris went wild with delight. The Empress Eegent rode 
in state to the great church of Notre Dame to hear the Te 
Deum in praise of the victory; and, when the war was over, 
the Empress and the King of Eome, it was said, were to be 
crowned by the Emperor in token of the supremacy and 
triumph of France. 

The battles of Liitzen and Bautzen had been stubborn and 
bloody. Many thousands of brave men had fallen on either 
side. But what of that ? They were victories for France, 
won by the boys of France for the fighting-stock of 
that bloody campaign of 1813 was largely drawn from 
the youth of France and Germany. Philip had heard 
with pride how Marshal Ney, " the bravest of the brave," 
had declared that the boys were better than veterans, 
and that he could lead them anywhere; and how, at 
Llitzen, the Emperor, in the supreme moment, dashed 
into the thick of the fight and shouted to the young con 
scripts who held the center : " My children, I rely upon you 
to save the Empire! Forward! France is watching you! 
Learn how to die for her!" And they did. For, with ringing 



BROTHER AND SISTER 213 

shouts of "Long live the Emperor!" the boys then charged 
the Prussians, and, with the bayonet's point, turned the tide 
of battle and won the day for France. 

This was most inspiriting. Already, notwithstanding the 
happy days with his new-found sister, Philip felt himself 
growing uneasy and wishing for the call to action. It came 
at last. One day an order was delivered to him bearing the 
imperial seal : 

Lieutenant Philip Desnouettes, of the Officers of Ordonnance, 
is directed to accompany the Empress to Mayence and report for 
duty to the Emperor in person. 

An armistice had been declared. Liitzen and Bautzen 
had called for a truce in the war; overtures for peace 
were made by Austria, a neutral power, and agreed to by 
France on the one side and by the allied powers of Russia, 
Prussia, and Sweden on the other. And, in July, Napoleon, 
resting from battle, requested his Empress to join him for a 
few days at Mayence; for the armistice declared a cessation 
of hostilities until the tenth of August following. 

" I go to join the Emperor," Philip announced joyfully to 
his sister and his good friends in the Street of the Fight. 
" But, alas ! I am destined never to see service in the field. 
We shall have peace, and the Emperor will be the master of 
Europe." 

" I hope so, my son," Citizen Daunou said; "but I do not 
believe it. The enemies of France are too many and too 
determined. They will fight to the death and crush us by 
numbers. This conflict is not like those that have gone be 
fore. Our foemen have learned the art of war from the 



214 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

Emperor. They will turn their knowledge to fatal account. 
This armistice is but the prelude to a yet more bloody fight, 
and a defeat will be our death-blow. Oh, that the Emperor 
would see his opportunity! France asks for peace; the 
world asks for it. By it the Emperor might confound his 
enemies and bring about results more glorious than the most 
victorious war. But he will not. See, Philip! Already the 
report is abroad that on the summit of the Alps Napoleon is 
to erect a monument on which will be inscribed : ' Napoleon 
to the French People, in memory of its noble efforts against 
the coalition of 1813.' To-day the Emperor is great; he is 
victorious. How much greater, how much more the victor 
would he be, if he would sign a treaty of peace, giving up the 
needless provinces he has conquered, and inscribe upon that 
treaty the words : ' These are the sacrifices to peace made by 
Napoleon for the welfare of the people of France.' But 
he will not do it, my son. He will not do it." 

Philip could not agree with his old friend. What young 
fellow, living in an atmosphere of victory, would believe 
that there was such a thing as a giving that was gaining ! 

He bade his dear ones adieu, reported for duty as one 
of the cortege of the Empress, and in high spirits set out 
to join the Emperor, then resting at Mayence. 

They rode from St. Cloud on the twenty-third of 
July, stopping on the way at Chalons and at Metz, and 
on the twenty-sixth reached Mayence. And there Philip 
again saw the Emperor. 

" So, my noble young lieutenant of ordonnance," cried 
Napoleon, pulling Philip's ear by w r ay of friendly greeting, 
" you are ready for duty, eh ? And how is the pretty 



BROTHER AND SISTER 215 

sister in Paris ? It was an excellent bit of acting, that. 
Do you know, my Philip, I half suspect good Citizen Daunou 
of springing it upon us for a purpose. He is a shrewd old 
schemer, I fear that Daunou for all his quiet ways as a 
browser among dusty documents. But it gave you a pleasure 
you and Mademoiselle, your sister. Xow, see what you 
can do to make her proud of her relationship. You will. Be 
but less heedless than of old, and more the man you are now 
big enough to be." 

Festivities made brilliant the brief visit of the Empress to 
Mayence. Princes and potentates, thronged the audience 
chamber. Fetes and illuminations, reviews and receptions, 
balls and banquets, crowded each other for ten days, and the 
old Rhenish city was full of stir and splendor. 

But, beneath all this, lay anxiety. The world wished for 
peace ; yet the world would know, all too well, the unbend 
ing will of the Emperor. 

One day Philip received a shock. After a grand dinner 
given by the Emperor to his titled tributaries, the boy ac 
companied Napoleon for a sail on the Rhine. The shores of 
the historic river lay picturesque and pleasant under a sum 
mer sun, and the Emperor, passing the castle of Biberich 
stood with one foot on the gunwale of the boat, studying the 
shore through his field-glass. 

As the Emperor leaned dangerously over the edge, Philip 
heard the prefect of Mayence a stout old republican of the 
Directory days say in an undertone to his neighbor, the 
governor of Berg : " Look there ! What an opportunity ! 
The fate of the world hangs on a single kick ! " 

" In heaven's name, hush ! " whispered the terrified gov 
ernor. 



216 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

" Bah ! do not fret," returned the old prefect : " resolute 
men are rare." 

Philip glanced at the old republican in ill-concealed terror. 
Kick the Emperor overboard ! Would he dare do this ? 
Why, it was worse than Uncle Fauriel. 

But the old prefect turned from temptation with a sigh. 
" Ah, my friend," he said to the trembling governor, " let me 
tell you, we shall all of us lament with tears of blood that 
this boat-trip was not the Corsican's last." 

Philip mused over this startling incident. It was, indeed, 
the undercurrent of talk that he had heard far too often of 
late. His loyalty to the Emperor made him nervous and 
angry, and he wondered whether it were not his duty to re 
port it all. Then he reassured himself with the thought: 
" The Emperor will have his way, and all these traitorous 
grumblers will humbly eat their words and give him greater 
glory than ever." 

The Emperor did have his way. He refused to listen 
to the appeals of Austria and the demands of Russia. Not 
an inch of French conquest would he resign. The enemies 
of France should sue to him as to a victor. He would 
never be a suppliant. 

The tenth of August came. Hostilities were resumed. 
Austria broke her pledges and joined the enemies of France ; 
and under the walls of Dresden, Napoleon, with less than 
a hundred thousand men, hurled himself against the allied 
powers of Europe, nearly two hundred thousand strong. 

There Philip first " smelled gunpowder." There he re 
ceived his " baptism of fire." There for the first time he 
heard the thunder of hostile cannon, the clash of opposing 




"THE EVE OK THE EMPEROR, HE KELT, WAS UPON HIM." 



BROTHER AND SISTER 219 

steel, the shrill neigh of the war-horse, the hoarse shouts of 
command, the mingling cries of combatants, the swelling 
cheer of the victor, the sullen growl of the vanquished, the 
backward note of retreat, the forward yell of pursuit, the 
sharp scream of the wounded, the muffled groan of the dying, 
and all the pomp and pain, all the glory and misery of that 
legalized murder that men call war. 

He heard all, he saw all, he was a part of all. At first, 
kept busy in writing and despatching orders rapidly dic 
tated by the Emperor that master of the art of war, whose 
eye seemed everywhere, whose ear heard everything Philip 
paid but little attention to the details of the conflict. Then, 
despatched on some imperative mission, he came face to face 
with death looked at it, paled before it, trembled before it, 
braced himself before it, and at last, all on fire with excitement, 
desire, and duty, hardened himself in the midst of it, and be 
came as reckless, as daring, as heedless and as unconcerned 
as any of the thousands of young conscripts who made up 
the victorious army of Napoleon that brilliant day of 
struggle and achievement beneath the walls of Dresden. 

Three times his duty carried him into the thick of the 
fight, amidst flying bullets, falling fighters, the rush of bat 
talions and the clash of steel. The eye of the Emperor, he felt, 
was upon him that Emperor who, braving death a hundred 
times, saw this weak spot, reckoned on that movement, hurled 
his squadrons against this wall of men, massed his infantry 
for a charge upon that yielding break, and fighting, sword in 
hand, like any sub-lieutenant in the ranks, unmindful of the 
torrents of driving rain, heedless of the oceans of clogging 
rnud, cried : " Forward, my children ! again ! again ! I 



220 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

cannot be beaten ! " and added to his laurels as a con 
queror the masterly victory of Dresden. 

Philip was roused ; he was electrified ; he grew full of the 
fury of the battle. He galloped this way and that, command 
ing, crying, cheering, carried away with excitement. And 
when he rode with the hussars, pursuing the routed Russians, 
he saw the only enemy that remained to face the victorious 
Frenchmen a great, alert, watchful-eyed Danish hound, 
searching for his master. 

Philip whistled cheerily, and the dog came at the call. 
Then it bristled with growl and bark, as this boy it did not 
know leaned from his saddle to pet and capture it. The 
chase slackened ; the bugles sounded the recall ; and when, 
the battle over, the enemy flying, the victory won, Philip 
rode back to the French lines, he brought with him as the 
only trophy of his valor a single prisoner this dog. 

He glanced at the hound's gleaming collar. Upon it he 
read : / am General Moreau's dog. 

" Moreau ? Moreau ? " he queried. " It is a French 
name." Can it be that renegade ? 

" Ha ! Moreau the deserter ! Moreau the renegade ! 
Moreau the traitor! Kill the dog!" cried the soldiers; 
for the presence of Moreau, once the greatest of French 
fighters, Moreau, the victor of Hohenlinden as a leader 

O J 

in the ranks of the enemy, infuriated and enraged the army. 

" Hands off! the dog is my prisoner ! " Philip cried. 

The soldiers yielded to the young lieutenant with a laugh. 
And when Philip rode through the gates of Dresden, he car 
ried with him this captured pet of Napoleon's old-time com 
rade and rival now dying among the enemies of France. 



" THE CLAWS OF THE COKSICAN " 

PHILIP dismounted, and, still followed by his prisoner, 
entered the palace of the Saxon kings, in which the 
Emperor had his headquarters. 

There he found Napoleon wet, bedraggled, tired, but 
triumphant with the brim of his cocked hat hanging in ruin 
upon his shoulder, and the famous gray overcoat black with 
mud. The Emperor had been three days without rest, and 
twelve hours in the pouring rain. But he had won the fight; 
he had sent the enemy flying across the Saxon borders, and 
satisfaction and delight shone upon his face. 

" Ah, ha ! my ordonnance boy," he cried. " You. are there, 
eh ? And how is it with you ? You have worked hard ; 
you have worked faithfully. He who writes and rides may 
be as brave as he who carries the eagles or waves the sword. 
I am proud of you, young Desnouettes." 

Praise is a wonderful medicine. It is rest for tired bones ; 
it is balm for smarting wounds ; it is even comfort in dying. 
To a boy who feels that he really has done his duty, it .is 
especially sweet to hear the words, " Well done ! " And 
praise from Napoleon was both a reward and an inspiration. 

Philip grasped the Emperor's extended hand, and kissed it 
in acknowledgment. " Sire," he said, " you can never be 



222 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIEE 

beaten ! I would not have missed this day for all the pal 
aces in Paris." 

Napoleon smiled again. Then he spied the hound and 
asked, " Ah, that dog ? Is it Moreau's, as I have heard ? " 

" So says his collar, Sire," Philip replied. " I took him 
prisoner in a cottage at Eacknitz." 

" Eacknitz ! " exclaimed the Emperor. " But that was 
where I trained the guns upon the Eussian staff. Philip, 
Philip ! it may have been I who killed the renegade ! Poor 
Moreau ! " said Napoleon, passing his hand over his brow, 
" to die a traitor because he hated ' that rascal Bonaparte,' as 
he called me ! I honored him once, though he was ever 
jealous of me. France ! I have avenged you of a degenerate 
son. Well ; all goes finely. Eest yourself, Lieutenant Des- 
nouettes, and to-morrow prepare to ride with me very 
early, remember to our camp at Pirna. We must follow 
fast on the runaways and smother them in the hills. And 
then on to Berlin ! " 

To the great camp at Pirna ten miles southeast of Dres 
den Philip rode with the Emperor, and was at once busied 
in writing orders directing the pursuit of the demoralized 
allies. 

Suddenly, in the midst of an order to General Yamlainme, 
who was to head off the retreat near Kulm, a hundred miles 
to the north, the Emperor gave a sharp cry, clapped a hand 
over his lowest waistcoat buttons, and doubled up completely, 
unable to think or act. 

Napoleon had the stomach-ache. 

You laugh at this ; but, let me tell you, there is nothing 
so demoralizing as pain. Headache and indigestion have 



"THE CLAWS OF THE CORSICAN" 223 

wrecked more than one great cause. Men who can command 
armies have surrendered to the toothache. Napoleon was 
never victorious on the sea, because he was always too sea 
sick to command in person. Washington bore pain without 
flinching, and set the government of the new United States 
on its feet, while nearly dying from a boil on his leg ; Na 
poleon could not endure pain, and lost his crown through a 
stomach-ache. For the cramp that caught him that day 
at Pirna kept him from pursuing his routed foes, and, with 
that failure to act, began the conqueror's downfall. 

At all events, he gave up his plan of conducting the pur 
suit in person. He returned to Dresden. Disaster fell upon 
his generals whenever they fought without him. Oudinot 
was beaten at Grossbeeren ; Macdonald was overthrown at 
Katzbach ; Vandamme was captured at Kulm ; Ney was 
routed at Dennewitz. The Allies turned back ; with fresh 
troops swelling their recovering ranks, they drew about the 
man they had sworn to destroy. 

His vassals forsook him ; his tributaries deserted him. 
France was left alone; and, yielding to the advice of his mar 
shals rather than following his own wise judgment, Napoleon 
gave up his plan of marching upon Berlin. His enemies 
drew about him ; they inclosed him in a ring of steel ; and 
on the sixteenth of October, in that year of 1813, the Em 
peror stood at bay under the walls of quaint old Leipsic 
a handful against a host 

That bloodiest battle of modern times has been called the 
Battle of the Nations. It was France against all Europe. 
For three days it raged. One hundred and ten thousand 
men were killed or wounded. Then the Saxons in the ranks 



224 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

of France went over in a body to the enemy. Eetreat was a 
necessity. Napoleon was beaten. 

But he would not admit it. Neither would Philip. The 
boy was worked nearly to death. He rode, he wrote, he ran ; 
he scurried about amid flying bullets, looked almost down 
the throats of belching cannon, got himself entangled in 
moving masses of infantry, and dodged many a sweeping 
cavalry charge. He was growing heedless of danger ; he 
was becoming used to war. 

He was angry to see that, instead of pursuing, the French 
were really in retreat. But Philip did not call it a retreat ; 
he spoke of it as " a backward movement." He scowled 
with rage as he railed at the " treacherous Saxons " ; and, 
when the crowning disaster came the blowing-up of the 
bridge over the Elster, which cut off the French rear-guard, 
the wagon-train, and the wounded Philip echoed the Em 
peror, and declared that it was disaster and not defeat that 
took away the glory from the great victory of Leipsic the 
"victory" that all the world now knows to have been a 
most disastrous defeat. 

Then came the fight at Hanau, the last gleam of sun 
shine through the gathering clouds for Napoleon turned it 
into a success and, on the first day of November, Philip 
was despatched to Paris as the herald of victory, carrying 
to the Empress Regent the twenty hostile standards cap 
tured at Leipsic and Hanau. 

His coming cheered people greatly, for it showed them 
that the Emperor was victorious ; and Philip was praised 
and petted on every hand. 

From the palace, as soon as his duties were over, Philip 




"HE SHOWED HER WHERE A TATAR ARROW HAD TORN AN UGLY HOLE.' 



226 A BOY OF THE FIEST EMPIEE 

flew to the Street of the Fight, the great hound stalking at 
his heels. 

" Mademoiselle my sister," he said, after the glad greeting 
was over, " I bring you the first captive of my bow and 
spear. I lay my trophy at your feet. Down, 'Marshal!' 
Crouch!" and the big Dane, trained by his captor for this 
very act of homage, first hung his head, as if in acknow 
ledgment of his defeat, and then crouched, a suppliant, at 
the feet of the delighted girl. 

" O Philip ! for me ? How lovely ! What a beauty ! 
See, Nurse, I shall not need you longer as a chaperone. 
Here is my protector," and she rested her little hand on the 
great dog's head. "But, Philip, did you really fight with 
bow and spear ? They tell us the Cossacks do." 

Philip laughed with the superior air of a veteran. " Well, 
we do . not, Mademoiselle," he replied. " But the Tatars 
and Bashkirs do. Pestiferous little Eussian wasps ! I caught 
one of their arrows through my chapeau. See ! " and, draw 
ing his hat from beneath his arm, he showed where a Tatar 
arrow had torn an ugly hole. " My best one, too," he added, 
gazing on it ruefully ; while Mademoiselle regarded the rent 
with awe, and then cried : 

" Oh, but suppose it had not gone so high, my Philip ! 
Oh, dear!" and with a little shriek she transferred her 
caressing hand from the great Dane's neck to her bro 
ther's curly head. 

Soon his other friends gathered in welcome and admira 
tion, and the boy's rattling chatter almost dispelled the 
gloom he noted on all their faces. For despite the elation 
over the pretended victories, Paris was downcast and 
anxious. 



"THE CLAWS OF THE CORSICAN" 227 

" A fine mess your Corsican is getting us into, young Des- 
nouettes ! " blurted out Uncle Fauriel. " Why, before we 
know it, we shall liave the Allies storming into Paris itself. 
And what then ? " 

" Never ! " cried Philip, hotly. " Paris will never be oc 
cupied by the foes of France while the Emperor lives. I 
tell you he is master ! " 

"How can he be, my Philip, with half a million men 
crowding him against a wall ? " Citizen Daunou said, sadly. 
" I acknowledge the Emperor's greatness. I know his mighty 
will. He will not give up without a blow. The hour for 
great souls is that when everything is lost. But even his 
valor cannot withstand a host. We have no men left to 
fight for him. Let him make peace, or his empire is doomed." 

" I know his valor, too," said Uncle Fauriel. " But your 
Emperor is no Frenchman. He is a Corsican. And the 
Corsican, like the cat, persists in spitting, and squirming, 
and scratching, even when one holds him by the nape of the 
neck. Europe holds your Emperor thus. But let Europe 
beware. Your Emperor at bay is but a cat in a corner. 
You shall yet see the claws of the Corsican." 

Within a few days after Philip's arrival the Emperor him 
self returned to Paris. He came unannounced. He came 
almost in disgrace. Again he had lost an army for France. 
But pride was in his heart and determination in his eye. 

" Peace ? " he cried. " Who talks of peace with the enemy 
at our gates ? We must fight once more. We must fight 
desperately, and, when we have conquered, then we will talk 
of peace. I desire peace, but it must be solid and honor 
able. France depends upon me. I am a man who may be 



228 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

killed, but never will be insulted. The French will be 
worthy of themselves and me." 

With that he set about to raise a new army for the de 
fense of France. " In three months we shall have peace," 
he said. The enemy will be driven out, or I shall be dead. 
My soldiers and I have not forgotten our trade, and those 
who dared profane our frontier shall soon repent of having 
stepped foot on French soil." 

Already " the Corsican," as Uncle Fauriel had declared, 
was sharpening his " claws." 

The foot of the foeman was on French soil. The Allies 
crossed the Rhine ; they had invaded France. The nation, 
accustomed only to attack, was unprepared to defend ; Paris 
was without fortifications ; the fighting material the Em 
peror demanded was not easy to procure. Twenty years of 
war had well-nigh drained France of men. 

But the Emperor was imperative. " Give me soldiers ! " 
he said. Men-soldiers ! I cannot fight your battles with 
children. Our boys of the Young Guard fought nobly at 
Dresden and Leipsic ; nothing can exceed their courage. 
But in the struggle before us, if I am to conquer, I must 
have men, men, men ! " 

The men came, and the boys as well. Though all France 
cried for peace ; though Paris wailed, " This insatiate one 
wishes to sacrifice all our children to his wild ambition " ; 
and though this wail was echoed in every town and village 
of the Empire, still the Senate, accustomed to obey the Em 
peror, voted both the men and the money he demanded ; 
and in January, 1814, France had collected nearly three 
hundred thousand men with which to oppose an invading 
force of almost a million. 



"THE CLAWS OF THE COKSICAN " 229 

Philip was speedily summoned to join the Emperor. His 
duties had permitted him frequent glimpses of that charm 
ing home-life that was one phase of this strange man's 
character, when he would play like a child with his boy, 
the little King of Rome ; and Philip, too, was with the Em 
peror that sad and eventful January day when Napoleon 
committed to the care of the Home Guard of Paris his wife 
and child, and left to face his foes. "Gentlemen," he said 
to the officers of this Home Guard, " France is invaded. I 
place myself at the head of my army, and with the help of 
God and the valor of my troops I shall drive the enemy be 
yond the frontiers." Then, giving one hand to the Empress 
arid one to the little King, he presented them to the Guards: 
" To you, gentlemen," he said, " I confide the protection of 
my wife and my son, on whom so many hopes rest. I in 
trust them to you ; I intrust them to the affectionate care 
of my faithful city of Paris." 

The Guards wept; the Guards swore fealty; the Guards 
shouted : " Long live the Emperor ! " Then he was gone ; 
and, straightway, with all the wariness and all the ferocity 
of a tiger, he sprang at the throat of his foe. 

It was a death grapple, desperate, brilliant, dramatic. It 
was a struggle magnificent in its intensity, masterly in its 
conception, wonderful in its devices. It is too little known 
in history, overshadowed by the glory of Austerlitz, the dis 
aster of Moscow, the carnage of Leipsic, the tragedy of Wa 
terloo. It Was the conqueror at bay. 

Ten times, in that short campaign, did Napoleon face and 
overthrow his hunters. All his strategy, all his daring, all 
his brilliant methods were brought into play ; and, each 



230 A BOY OF THE FIEST EMPIRE 

time, the invaders reeled back, defeated, bleeding, and 
broken. The "claws of the Corsican" struck swiftly and 
sank deep. 

Twice was Philip sent to Paris with flags as trophies and 
prisoners as signs of triumph. Then, one March afternoon, 
the Emperor summoned him in haste. 

" Lieutenant Desnouettes," he said, " I intrust you with 
this letter to the Empress. Be wary and be vigilant. 
Guard it with your life. Deliver it only into the Empress's 
own hands. It is because I know your courage and your 
loyalty that I repose this trust in you. Eide, for life or 
death!" 

Philip sprang to his saddle and galloped toward Paris. 

The sun was nearly set as he rode out of the little ham 
let of St.-Dizier (where Napoleon, next day, was to win his 
last victory) and headed for Paris. The night favored the 
rider; for, with the continual changing of positions, one 
was always in danger, and darkness was a convenient cloak. 
If but he could escape the enemy's outposts or their forag 
ing parties, his way was clear. 

So he rode on with speed. From St.-Dizier to Perthe and 
Yillotte and Vitry-on-the-Marne he rode ; and, crossing the 
river, spurred on to Cosle and Comiantray and La Fere-Cham- 
penoise, where, one to ten, the French had fought the in 
vaders, and Pacthod's guards had proven themselves heroes. 
Soon he galloped into Sezanne. Thus far all was well. But, 
as he rode from Sezanne, he hesitated. The road to Coulom- 
miers was the most direct ; but he knew the upper road bet 
ter, where, from Montmirail, the road led westward to Meaux. 

He decided for the upper road, and there was his mistake. 



"THE CLAWS OF THE CORSICAN" 231 

For, as he saw the lights of Montmirail shining across the 
narrow Little Morin, and looked for the white streak that 
meant the road to Meaux, he spied, ahead, a moving blur, 
magnified by the darkness into an uncertain but threaten 
ing mass. He tried to force his horse from the road and 
into the bordering fields, although he knew that thus he 
would miss the bridge across the Little Morin and have to 
swim for it. 

In the gloom of the night his horse, like a sensible beast, 
refused to leave the road or jump the low wall that flanked 
the roadway. 

The moving mass came on with shout and swing. Philip 
had been seen. The challenge rang sharply out, but Philip 
held his peace, refusing a reply. Then bullets whistled by 
him, and the boy, thinking safety lay only in his own legs, 
dismounted and let his horse go free. 

With the " Hurra ! " that he now knew so well as the Cos 
sack war-cry, his foemen swooped upon the riderless horse ; 
but, seeing through the boy's plan, dashed across the bridge, 
and stretched themselves in a crescent from wall to wall. 

Then Philip sought to climb the wall, and escape across 
the fields to the bank of the stream. But he was stiff with 
riding, and, in the darkness, his footing was insecure. He 
slipped arid fell almost beneath the hoofs of the oncoming 
horse. 

Again he heard the guttural call, the terrible Cossack 
" Hurra ! " Then something pounced upon him in the dark, 
before he could free his pistol-hand or draw his sword. 
Eager hands felt for and grabbed him. He squirmed and 
dodged and wriggled and kicked, but all to no purpose. 



232 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

The next instant he was lifted to his feet; a light was 
flashed full upon him ; fierce faces encircled him ; words he 
did not understand shot from bearded and swarthy lips. 
He could neither defend nor assail. He could not even die, 
as he had sworn he would, if cornered. Philip was a prisoner 
in the hands of the Cossacks. 



CHAPTEE XIX 

HOW THE SCHOOLBOYS FOUGHT AT PARIS 

PHILIP struggled desperately in the hands of his cap 
tors, but to no avail. He was speedily secured and 
conducted to headquarters, only to find just see how curi 
ously things come around ! that he had fallen into the 
hands of the Cossacks of Czernicheff' s command that Eus- 
sian about whom Philip the page got into trouble by calling 
the Czar's envoy " Catch-a-sneezy the spy," the day when, 
in the Hall of the Marshals, he had angered the Eussian 
ambassador. 

Philip felt a little uncertain when he discovered this. 
He recalled the stories of Eussian vengeance he had so of 
ten heard, and expected the worst. But there was no es 
pecial danger. Czernicheff did not recognize in this be 
draggled young courier the spruce palace page of the days 
of magnificence. He saw that it was a bearer of despatches 
his Cossacks had captured, and he hurried the prisoner on to 
Marshal Bliicher's headquarters for examination. 

Old "Marshal Forward," as Bliicher had been nick 
named because of his continual cry of " Forward to Paris !" 
questioned his prisoner sharply as to the mission on which 
he rode ; but Philip answered never a word. 

" Thunder and lightning ! Has the boy no tongue ? 
Search him ! " Bliicher cried hotly. 



236 A BOY OF THE FIEST EMPIEE 

And they did search him, more thoroughly than gently. 
Philip was punched and pummeled and pinched and fingered 
and finally stripped, in this eager search for the letter he 
was supposed to be carrying to court. At last it was ripped 
out from the secret pocket in the boy's crimson vest, and 
with a hurrah ! of discovery handed to the old Prussian 
leader, who, meanwhile, had stood by, watching the proceed 
ings, pulling his long mustache, and growling in choicest 
German at the boy's obstinacy. 

Bllicher tore open the letter and read it hastily. m " So ! 
for the Empress, is it? And not in cipher," he cried. " That 
is good ! As I thought ! " he exclaimed. " The Corsican is 
in sore straits, and what ! means to inarch to the east ? 
Ha ! he would strike at our rear, would he ? and draw us 
back to the Rhine ? We shall see ; we shall see. It is but a 
desperate man's last device. Yes, this proves it this last 
line here what is it ? ' This step saves me or ruins me.' 
So ! Quick ! copy it copy it, Rudolph ! " he cried, throwing 
the letter into the hands of one of his staff secretaries. " The 
commander-in-chief shall read it and see that my advice 
was best. Now he shall come to my way of thinking." 

The commander-in-chief of the allied armies that same 
Prince Schwarzenberg at whose famous and fatal ball Philip 
had first met Mademoiselle evidently did speedily come 
to Bliicher's way of thinking. For, before two days had 
passed, the Allies were racing for Paris, eacli division anxious 
to be the first to attack the imperiled and helpless capital ; 
while Napoleon's shrewd, though desperate move to draw 
back the enemy was thwarted, because he had been in too 
much of a hurry, and had not written in cipher his letter 
to the Empress. 







PHILIP BKFORE MARSHAL BLUCHER. THE LETTER IS FOUND. 



HOW THE SCHOOLBOYS FOUGHT AT PAEIS 239 

But before this came about, Philip was released ; and, es 
corted to the French outpost at Meaux, was sent on to 
Paris as bearer of the letter, which the enemy had already 
read and profited by. 

He felt small enough as he rode dejectedly from Meaux, 
through the forest and village of Bondy, and along the Canal 
of Ourcq. As he entered the city by the temple-like gate 
at the Villette barrier, he felt almost tempted to fling him 
self into the broad basin into which the canal flows. He 
had been a miserable failure. He had promised to defend 
his mission with his life ; and here he was, a cat's-paw for the 
enemy, bearing the letter, to be sure, but only after it had 
been taken from him and turned to such terrible account. 
What would the Emperor say ? What would be the end 
of it all? 

With a shrug of the shoulders his convenient French 
way of saying, "Well, I can't help it !" he threw off the un 
pleasant thought, and said to himself, " After all, it is as 
the Emperor himself says in such cases the fortune of 
war ! I did my best." And then he rode down the Street 
of the Suburb of St. Martin and on to the Tuileries. 

Philip sought the Empress and gave her the letter and 
the truth. The girl looked troubled after all, she was but 
a girl. 

" How careless ! " she exclaimed. " Both you and the Em 
peror ! How could you be thus caught, young Desnouettes ? 
And why oh, why, did the Emperor write, when he has 
always sent his other letters in a cipher the enemy can 
not read ? How dreadful ! Listen : ' This step saves me or 
ruins me,' he says. I see only ruin now. What shall I do ? 
whom can I trust ? who will advise ? " 



240 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

" Madame, stay ! " cried Philip, impulsively, dropping upon 
his knee. " Stay, and save Paris. The Home Guard swore 
to protect you and the little King. Stay ; and all Paris will 
die in defending you." 

" Monsieur the lieutenant, for all your boasting, you are 
but a fool," returned the young Empress, sharply, snatching 
away her robe from the touch of the appealing boy. " Paris ! 
You do not know the town. It would not turn a h'nger to save 
the daughter of Austria. Paris ! It is like the champagne it 
loves too well all fizz to-day, all dead to-morrow. It is 
full of traitors and turncoats men who will cry, 'Long live 
the Emperor ! ' in the morning, and ' Down with Bonaparte ! ' 
at night. And the Emperor ? He bids me go. He declares 
he had rather see his son in the Seine than in the hands of 
the Allies. Did I come to Paris but for this ? Am I to be 
like my grand-aunt, poor Marie Antoinette, whom your dear 
Paris murdered ? Boy, boy you are no better than the 
others ! No one can advise me. Everything is crumbling. 
We are lost ! " 

Was there no hope ? Philip, roused to frenzy over the way 
things were going, hurried to the Street of the Fight. It was 
as quiet there as ever Mademoiselle at her tasks, Citizen 
Daunou lost in his dusty documents of by-gone days, Nurse 
Marcel stolidly industrious. 

They greeted Philip with joy. They exclaimed in sur 
prise at his torn and discolored uniform. " You look tired and 
worried, my Philip. What have you been going through ? " 
Mademoiselle asked. 

Philip told his story of the mission and the capture. He 
begged them to do something. 



HOW THE SCHOOLBOYS FOUGHT AT PARIS 241 

" Paris is in danger in danger ! " he cried to Citizen 
Daunou. " Cannot you, my father, do something ? Cannot 
we rouse men to its defence ? " 

" And wherefore, my Philip ? What may we hope to do ? " 
Citizen Daunou said. " We are but drinking the cup I 
promised you months ago. You see now the Emperor's 
greatest mistake. He has given grand fortifications, arsenals, 
troops, all necessary defenses, to his distant cities to Dan- 
tzic, to Hamburg, to Flushing, to Venice. But to Paris 
nothing ! ' Paris could never be invaded ! No foeman's foot 
could ever press the sacred soil of France ! ' Oh, no ! But to 
day that foot is here here at the very gates of Paris. And 
what have we to protect us? Nothing, Philip; nothing 
not even the Emperor ! Here is no armament ; here are no 
muskets, no cannon, no fortifications. And for defenders 
not thirty thousand men to drive back half a million ! And 
the Emperor is not here ! " 

" But he will be here," cried Philip, bravely. " He will be 
here, and then let the Cossacks tremble ! The Emperor 
alone is worth half a million men." 

" If he were here, yes," replied Citizen Daunou. " But lie 
is not here ; and through the ranks of the enemy even he 
cannot break to save us. He is not here, and at the palace 
are only weaklings and traitors. The Empress is but a child 
and a foreigner. Her father leads our foes. King Joseph 
is timid and dares not take a step for fear of his brother the 
Emperor. The War Minister is an incompetent ; the Police 
Minister is an imbecile ; the Arch-Chancellor is an old 
grandfather ; Prince Talleyrand is a traitor. They will leave 
us, you will see. They will leave us, and Paris will fall." 



242 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

The old republican was right. Next day the Empress and 
her council fled from Paris the only one of them with 
spunk enough to stay being the three-year-old King of 
Home, who cried and kicked, and refused to leave and who 
never saw Paris again. 

And, even as the Court fled, the watchers could see from 
the heights about the city, and from the towers of Notre 
Dame, the head of the Eussian column winding out of the 
Bondy woods, leading the advance of that army of invasion 
that drew steadily toward the capital Paris, beautiful Paris, 
which for centuries had not seen the smoke of hostile camp- 
fires, nor the gleam of hostile steel, and yet which its own 
citizens seemed to have neither the spirit nor the patriotism 
to defend. 

However, the next morning, the thirtieth of March, 
1814, when at day-break the booming of the Russian can 
non told that the attack had begun, there were those who 
rushed to the aid of the men outside the barriers, already 
drawn up in line of battle. Militiamen with the loaf of bread 
that must be their dinner sticking on their bayonet points ; 
workingmen carrying pistols or the rusty pike that was a 
relic of their fathers' valor in the days of the Sansculotte; 
citizens carrying fowling-pieces as if they were bound on a 
bird-hunt, these all ran through the streets crying "To 
arms!" and headed for the barriers. 

In line of battle beyond the barriers, extending in a 
semicircle about the eastern side of the city, from the Seine 
on the south to the gate of Clichy on the north, were ranged 
the real defenders twelve thousand soldiers of the grand 
army under the Marshals Marmont and Mortie, a few thou- 



HOW THE SCHOOLBOYS FOUGHT AT PAEIS 243 

sand Home Guards, a few thousand raw recruits drawn from 
their barracks, veterans from the Soldiers' Home, and the 
schoolboys of the military and scientific schools of Paris. 

It was these last who bore the brunt of the battle. Philip 
felt a thrill of pride as he saw among the defenders of the 
city he loved the boys of his old school at Alfort, and 
the Polytechnic boys. He waved his hat excitedly as he 
galloped past them, and cried again and again : " Stick to 
your guns, fellows ! We boys will do it yet ! " 

Philip knew that, rightly, he should have broken through 
the lines and gone to report to the Emperor. But how 
could he? There was to be a battle. Could he leave 
when every fighting-man was needed while hostile cannon 
were playing against his city, his friends, his school- fellows ? 
He elected to stay, and, full of ardor and determination, he 
reported to Marshal Marmont as a special aide, and galloped 
from point to point, from barrier to barrier, bearing messages, 
and striking a blow for Paris whenever he had the chance. 

For ten hours the battle raged. Here, the shattered ranks 
of the Sixth Corps heroes of sixty-seven battles within the 
last ninety days stood stoutly against the foemen, whom, 
again and again, they had seen break and run before their 
charges ; there, the old soldiers, whose fighting days were 
over, once more leveled their muskets against the foes of 
France. The conscripts, yet new to war, fought with the 
dash of veterans ; and in the woods of Romainville, by the 
bridge of Charenton, on the heights of Montmartre, and at the 
Clichy gate, the boys of the Paris schools served the guns 
like trained artillerists, and fought from tree to tree like 
seasoned frontiersmen in American forests. They were de 
termined to do or die for France. 



244 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

Even valor may be overborne by numbers. 

Again and again were the Allies driven back. Again and 
again, with ever-increasing numbers, did they return to the 
assault. Men and boys were falling everywhere. The battle 
of Paris was one of the most stubborn and one of the most 
hopeless of all the conflicts of that hopeless campaign of 
1814. If but Napoleon had been there, that last of the 
battles might have proved a victory. 

Philip had rallied with the boys of the Young Guard as 
they drove the Prussians back to the suburbs of Pantin 
and St. Gervais ; he slashed and shot in the wood of 
Remain ville ; and, spurring in the advance, cheered on his 
schoolfellows of Alfort as- the cavalry class charged straight 
upon the Russian grenadiers at the bridge of Charenton. 
When, flanked and outnumbered, the boys crossed the Seine 
and made a desperate stand on the Beauregard slope, Philip 
was with them to cheer and wave his sword as their brave 
commander urged them to stand firm, and shouted, " At them 
again, boys ! Behind you is Paris ; before you is the foe ! " 

Galloping to the north with a message for the dauntless 
Marshal Mortier, he joined in the fight before the Barrier of 
the Throne, where stood the three hundred Polytechnic boys, 
one of whom, when taken prisoner, cheekily demanded of the 
Russian genera} a letter of recommendation to Siberia in 
order that he might teach mathematics there ! 

Behind their battery, holding their crazy fort, the Poly 
technic boys stood like a wall. Philip cheered his old 
schoolfellows until he was hoarse as, again and again, they 
drove back the Russian cavalry charges ; and, when they 
were outnumbered, and their battery was taken, he galloped 




CORPORAL PEYROLLES AND THE POLYTECHNIC BOYS FIGHTING IN THE 
DEFENSE OF PARIS. 



HOW THE SCHOOLBOYS FOUGHT AT PARIS 247 

amid their mass, as with an irresistible rush they swooped 
upon their assailants, recaptured, and dragged off their pre 
cious guns. 

He waved his shako wildly, as, dashing past the hillock 
of Chaumont, he saw at the guns, with a schoolboy on one 
side and a veteran on the other, dear old one-legged Pey- 
rolles, who, begrimed with powder-smoke, stopped just an 
instant while sighting his unerring piece, to wave his hand 
to Philip and shout, " Eh, there, my Philip ! Long live the 
Emperor ! " 

And, as he reached the barriers at the Clichy gate, where 
brave old Marshal Moncey made the last desperate stand 
behind the hastily-made barricades which soldiers, students, 
citizens, women, and children had helped to build, Philip, 
as he sprang from his reeking horse, leaped almost into the 
arms of a fat man who, blackened with powder, and with 
the perspiration streaming from every pore, was reloading 
an old fowling-piece, now hot from rapid firing. 

" What ! Uncle Fauriel ? " cried Philip. " You here ? " 

" And why not ? " Uncle Fauriel answered, ramming home 
another charge. " Where is the Corsican ? " 

" Coming, coming, if we will but wait," Philip answered, 
with a wail of anxious fear. " Don't let us give in ; I know 
he will come." 

" Bah ! " said Uncle Fauriel. " And why is he not here 
now, boy ? making peaceable fellows like us good citizens 
look after his business ! " he grumbled. 

" But why you ? " queried Philip. 

" Why me, boy ? " cried Uncle Fauriel, deliberately sight 
ing his piece toward the Eussian ranks ; " why not, then ? If 



248 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

the Corsican is beaten the White Cockade comes in ; and, 
as between Bonaparte and the Bourbons, give me the Cor 
sican. I did not build up the Eepublic, my Philip, to let the 
Empire, which is the child of the Eepublic, give in to the 
aristocrats we kicked out in '93. What is that you say 
the fight is over ? the foreigners have whipped us ? Never ! 
Down with the Allies ! Down with the Eoyalists ! " here 
he fired again " Long live the Emperor ! " 

There came a flash of flame from the Eussian guns, and 
Uncle Fauriel staggered, reeled, and fell back dead. 

Even as he fell, the white flag fluttered out ; the guns of 
assailants and defenders were silent; the battle was over; 
Paris had surrendered. And Philip, gazing on the face of his 
old friend, gave to it both a smile and a tear. 

"Dear Uncle Fauriel!" he cried. "Victor though van 
quished ! Dying for the man whose empire he hated ; 
fighting for the cause he detested only less than the cause 
he fought against; a loyal son of France his last words a 
wish for the man he had all his life resisted ; his last thought 
a prayer for the Corsican ! Dear Uncle Fauriel ! " 



CHAPTEE XX 

THE FALL OF THE TRICOLOR 

BESIEGERS and besieged fell back from their positions. 
The wounded were borne off ; the dead were removed ; 
and Philip, desperate over the defeat, broken-hearted at the 
death of his old friend, hurried to the Street of the Fight to 
tell the sad story. 

Mademoiselle mingled her tears with those of her brother 
as he told of Uncle Fauriel's death. But Citizen Daunou 
smiled sadly and said, " After all, my children, it was the 
taking-off that best suited that stanch old Convention-man. 
One half his talk was bluster, but the other half was real 
patriotism. As against Napoleon the Corsican, Uncle Fauriel 
was ever hot and bitter ; but Bonaparte, the hope of the 
Directory, as against the Bourbons whom that Directory 
drove from France, was a cause which, when the hour 
came, our dear old patriot was ready to defend with his 
blood. He was right in his fears ; the Bourbons will come 
in again; and I should never have been able to restrain 
Uncle Fauriel's fierce hatred against the cause they rep 
resent. He would ever have been in trouble. Better for 
him the glorious death he met, there at the Clichy gate, than 
to be the tool of political plotters and the dupe of foolish 
conspirators. In this world, my children, it is better to be 

249 



250 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

loyal than uncertain. Trust me, our France, though defeated 
now, will never forget such valiant sons of France as Uncle 
Fauriel." 

And, to-day, the striking and beautiful monument which 
Paris has raised in memory of those brave citizen-soldiers 
who fell at the Clichy gate attests the truth of Citizen Dau- 
nou's prophecy. 

But, in life, one must think of the living ; and Philip felt, 
now that his duty as a defender was done, that his place 
was at the side of his Emperor. 

At two o'clock on the morning of March thirty-first, the 
authorities in command at Paris signed the capitulation, and 
the tricolored banner came down from its staff on the 
Tuileries. Before daybreak Philip was far from Paris, gal 
loping along the road by which, according to the latest re 
ports, the Emperor was hurrying to the relief of his capital. 

As the dusk was just turning to dawn, Philip rode into the 
little hamlet of Fromenteau, some twelve miles from Paris ; 
and, in the dim morning light, he saw before him a well- 
known figure walking in the direction of the fallen city. 

He understood at once. The Emperor had received the 
news of the defeat and the surrender, and, fretting at every 
delay,, without waiting for horse or carriage, was starting to 
walk toward Paris, a dozen miles away. For once, even his 
coolness had yielded to impatience. Almost on his heels 
hurried certain of his officers, expostulating and explaining. 

" Who goes there ? Eh, it is you, young Desnouettes ? " the 
Emperor cried, as the boy sprang from the saddle. " Well, 
what news ? what news ? " 

" Nothing but what you have already heard, Sire," Philip 



THE FALL OF THE TEICOLOE 251 

replied, sadly. " We fought like tigers, but the Cossacks 
were too much for us. Ah, had you but been there, Sire ! " 

"Yes, yes; I know I know. But one cannot be every 
where," Napoleon said, flicking the ground with his riding- 
whip, as was his wont when he was perplexed or excited. 
" But now it is no time for complaints ; now it is time to 
act. We must repair the evil. Run, my Philip ; run to the 
post-house. Bid them hurry up my carriage. Every one is 
an imbecile to-day. Why are they so slow ? Come ! my 
carriage, my carriage, my carriage ! " 

It was almost King Eichard's despairing cry repeated : "A 
horse ! a horse ! my kingdom for a horse ! " 

" But it is too late, Sire," Philip explained. " The enemy 
is already in Paris." 

" What ! you too ? " the Emperor cried. " You are all 
singing the same song. Suppose he is I am going there, 
too. I will lead on my army, and drive the enemy from 
Paris my Paris ! my Paris ! " he repeated. " Forward, 
gentlemen ! Let us clear out the barbarians ! " 

" Too late, Sire," said General Belliard, the leader of the 
cavalry advance. " Our troops are marching away from the 
city. We cannot go back. We have signed a capitulation." 

" A capitulation ! " the Emperor blazed out. " Who has 
been so cowardly ? " 

" No cowards, Sire," Belliard replied. " Brave men who 
could not do otherwise." 

Still Napoleon walked on toward Paris. Still he called 
again and again for his carriage. Still his generals followed 
at his heels. Then other soldiers advanced toward him. 
The same questions were asked: the same replies given. 



252 A BOY OF THE FIEST EMPIRE 

And the Emperor, realizing at last that his wish indeed was 
hopeless, flung himself upon the stone seat that flanked the 
fountain of Juvisy and buried his face in his hands. All 
were silent. No one broke in upon the crowding thoughts 
that marked the tearless anguish of a conquered conqueror. 

At last he rose. Calm succeeded to despair. Dignity, 
composure, energy, came again to the face that so seldom be 
trayed emotion. 

Then reaction came. Napoleon had ridden nearly two 
hundred miles without rest, and all to no purpose. Going 
into the little posting-house near to the fountain, he dropped 
into a chair and, for an instant, rested his head upon the 
table. But, no ! He must not sleep ; he must work. He 
called for lights. He spread out his war-maps upon the 
table, and sticking his pins here and there, as was his cus 
tom, at once began to study the situation. Philip never 
forgot that scene the gray of the morning, the group of 
silent soldiers, and, through the open door of the cottage, 
in the circle of flickering light, the tired and defeated 
leader of men poring over his maps, planning a new cam 
paign. 

But that campaign never came. Fate was too strong for 
him ; and, yielding to the inevitable, Napoleon finally gave up 
his determination to make an instant march on Paris witli 
the troops who were following him from the eastern frontier, 
and rode wearily to his palace at Fontainebleau, a few miles to 
the south. There he would rest ; there he would plan things 
more carefully ; and, calling around him his scattered bat 
talions, he would mass them for an irresistible march on 
his foes, whom he declared he now had " trapped in Paris." 



THE FALL OP THE TEICOLOR 253 

Bad news travels quickly. And bad news speedily found 
its way to Fontainebleau. The allies entered Paris. The 
city "faithful Paris," as the Emperor had called it instead 
of rising against the invaders, welcomed them. France was 
weary of war. The dignitaries of the Empire, following the 
lead of Talleyrand, " that arch- conspirator," one by one de 
serted the Emperor who had made them rich and loaded 
them with honors. They gave in their allegiance to the new 
government. The white cockade and the white flag of the 
Bourbons appeared on the streets. " Long live the King ! " 
began to be heard where " Long live the Emperor ! " had 
so often been shouted. The abdication of the Emperor was 
demanded, and fickle Paris ran easily down the scale from 
homage to nickname, from the Emperor to Napoleon 
Bonaparte " the Corsican " " Nicholas ! " until at last it 
made ready to welcome back the Bourbons, whom a genera 
tion before it had hacked to death on the guillotine and 
driven away in the days of terror. 

Treason hastened the work. Napoleon's army, upon which 
he had depended for his revenge, dwindled away ; and 
Marmont brave Marmont, who had so valiantly defended 
Paris went over with his entire army corps, and for ever 
after was esteemed a traitor by the France he hoped to serve 
and save. 

The marshals, whom the Emperor had raised to rank and 
riches, joined in the cry for his abdication. They conspired 
against their old leader ; it is claimed they even doomed him 
to death if he refused to obey their will. 

Thus, deserted by his companions-iri-arms, worn out with 
a useless struggle loath, now, to plunge France into civil 



254 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIEE 

war by appeals to the people who were loyal and the old 
soldiers who were faithful to him Napoleon, with that ser 
enity that marks a great soul, yielded to the inevitable, and, 
on the eleventh of April, 1814, signed his abdication as Em 
peror of the French, and quietly stepped down from the high 
position he so long had occupied. It was the noblest act of 
his life, even though men might say it was compulsory. 

This is the act of renunciation he signed this victor, 
vanquished by Fate, and by his own ambition : 

The Allied Powers having proclaimed that the Emperor is the sole 
obstacle to the reestablishment of peace in Europe, the Emperor, faith 
ful to his oath, declares that he renounces for himself and for his family 
the thrones of France and Italy, and that there is no sacrifice, even to 
that of his life, which he is not ready to make for the interests of 
France. 

The tricolor had indeed fallen. The man who, for so 
many years, had given glory and greatness to France, who 
had distracted England with war, startled the whole Con 
tinent with his success, and filled the world with his name, 
stepped down from his throne, and Europe once more 
breathed freely. Great in everything he did, Napoleon was 
as great in his fall as in his glory. The Empire was dead. 

Through all these days of watching and waiting, of plan 
ning and plotting, of hopes and fears, Philip stood by the 
Emperor, serving him as best he could, riding to Paris, bear 
ing messages now to the friends and now to the foes of the 
man he clung to alike in victory and defeat. 

He stood by the Emperor's bedside, that sad night on 
which, for the only time in his life, Napoleon played the 



THE FALL OF THE TEICOLOE 255 

coward and tried to commit suicide. He was near him that 
famous morning when in the Court of the White Horse, in 
the beautiful palace of Fontainebleau, Napoleon bade fare 
well to his Old Guard, and left for the island principality that 
had been given him as his home it was almost a prison 
the little island of Elba, in the Mediterranean. 

That was the moment when Philip's pent-up feelings had 
overflowed, and the tears he would not have checked if he 
could came tumbling down his cheeks. Already the Em 
peror had said farewell to this boy who had so faithfully 
served him. 

Standing in the splendid gallery of Francis I., which opens 
upon the famous Horseshoe Staircase, down which Napoleon 
walked to say good-by to his Guard, the boy had begged 
and implored the Emperor to let him be one of the chosen 
four hundred soldiers who were to accompany the dethroned 
monarch to his tiny island realm. 

But, " No, my Philip," the Emperor said, " it cannot be. 
Go home to your dear ones, the sister you have found, the 
good Citizen Daunou, who is like a father to you. There lies 
your duty to them and to France. Serve France, my son, 
as loyally as you have served me ; and when she needs your 
strong young arm and that sometimes flighty but always 
truth-telling tongue of yours, I know she will not call in 
vain." 

Then Napoleon passed on amid his officers, down the 
Horseshoe Staircase and into the White Horse Court. 

The drums beat a salute. Then they were silent, and 
Napoleon, in a voice first strong, then broken and full of 
feeling, said farewell to his stalwart soldiers of the Guard, 
his never-failing reliance on every field of battle. 



256 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

It was one of the most pathetic moments in history. Every 
man was thrilled; and when, breaking off his speech, Napo 
leon flung his arms about the standard-bearer, grasped the 
imperial standard and touched his lips to the eagle that 
crowned it, Emperor, generals, soldiers, all were in tears. 

Philip clung to the step of the carriage. Tears blinded the 
bright young eyes that looked up to his master in the final 
farewell. The Emperor placed a hand upon his head. 
" Good-by, my boy. God bless you ! " he said. Then the 
horses started ; the carriage rolled out of the courtyard, and 
to Philip it seemed as if all the glory, all the promise, and 
all the pride of living passed from his brave young life. 

But boys rally quickly, even from deeper sorrows. Philip 
returned to the. Street of the Fight, proud and happy over the 
Emperor's words of praise, and delighted to find that this pa 
thetic " Passing of Napoleon " had conquered even the stout 
old republican, who had served his Emperor faithfully, even 
when he most questioned the imperial measures. Eor now 
the old Keeper of the Archives looked upon the fallen mon 
arch almost as devotedly as did the hero-worshiping boy 
and girl who brightened his quiet home. 

The tricolor had fallen. The white standard waved above 
the Tuileries. The Bourbons returned to power. Old Louis 
XVIII. was king of France, and those who had served the 
bees took service under the lilies. 

But this Philip stoutly refused to do. One day, Citizen 
Daunou said : " My son, you can be a page of the palace 
still, if you wish. The King recalls your father's services 
in the days before the Eepublic. He knows how he died, 
and he will gladly give the son of Desnouettes the Emigre 



THE FALL OF THE TEICOLOR 257 

a place of honor in his train." Then Philip replied, un 
hesitatingly, " I cannot ; I cannot, my father. The Em 
peror found me poor and friendless. He stood me on my 




"THE EMPEROR PLACED A HAND UPON HIS HEAD." 

feet; he tried to make a man of me. While he lives, 
there is for me no other king. I would not be page to the 
Bourbons for all the gold in their palaces. If ever the 
foreigner threatens France I will remember the Emperor's 



258 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

charge, and serve France as well as I may; but never 
the Bourbons ! Let me, rather, if I ma} 7 , stay here with 
you and Mademoiselle, my sister." 

" There spake my boy," Citizen Daunou said ; and Made 
moiselle kissed her brother tenderly and cried, " There is no 
truer friend than our Philip, is there, my father?" 

The days passed by. France accepted the Bourbons. 
Paris paid court to them. There were fetes and receptions, 
balls and illuminations, processions, shows, and displays, 
even as there had been in the Empire days though there 
were people who said these could not compare with those for 
magnificence. But in all such doings Philip had neither in 
terest nor part. He took up the studies he had dropped 
when the stress of France called him to ride and write for 
the Emperor. He perfected himself in military science, and 
the drawing and mathematics which delighted him. Citizen 
Daunou praised him highly for this. 

" Be strong in your mathematical study, Philip, my boy," 
he said. " That best tries a boy's patience and builds up a 
boy's brain. I wish I had your head for figures." 

Whereat Philip laughed ; for he thought Citizen Daunou 
knew everything. He laughed, also, it must be confessed, 
when he heard the notes of discontent that were growing 
each day louder over what folks called "the mistakes of the 
Bourbons," and he discussed many times with Citizen Dau 
nou, and sometimes with clever young Mademoiselle, the 
embarrassment of the new government, the disputes of roy 
alists and republicans, the discontent of the army, and the 
attempts of the famous " Congress of Vienna " to straighten 
out the mixed-up affairs of Europe. 



THE FALL OF THE TRICOLOR 259 

Even the good old Keeper of the Archives was sometimes 
" out of sorts " and disgusted at the things that were going 
on. He said one day to Philip, "After all, Napoleon was 
but right when he declared, ' The Bourbons will reconcile 
France with the rest of Europe, but set her at war with her 
self.' You will see ; you will see ! " 

Philip especially enjoyed hunting up Corporal Peyrolles 
and having a good talk with him. The old veteran was a 
bitter partizan. To him the marshals were renegades ; the 
dignitaries who had accepted the Bourbons were traitors ; 
the Bourbons were knaves and cowards. 

" Look now at that old pig of a Capet, Philip ! " he cried 
for to the old soldier of the Revolution the brother of Louis 
XVI. was, like that unfortunate, no king, but only a man 
whose name was Capet " Look on him, riding the very 
streets our Emperor has trod. An invalid, say you ? Yes, 
but not from wounds like those of us who have dropped 
our blood for France ! An invalid, he, from age, with never 
a touch of glory. What is he, then ? A puppet show worked 
by Cossacks." 

Then, in high glee, Peyrolles pulled from his pocket one 
of the comic pictures of the day. " Look you, my boy. Here 
is that Capet. This is he!" And Philip laughed, too, at the 
rudely-colored picture of old King Louis XVIII. riding be 
hind a hairy Cossack on a sorry-looking horse, and hugging 
the barbarian tightly for fear of falling off. But both the 
boy and the veteran stamped with rage at sight of the high 
way over which Cossack and King were riding the bodies 
of French soldiers who had died for the Emperor. 

Peyrolles, by this time, was an inmate of the Soldiers' 



260 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

Home that splendid building with the magnificent dome, 
then called the Temple of Mars, but famous now as the 
great Hotel of the Invalids. The old corporal had no ob 
jection to being cared for there. " For," said he, " the Em 
peror sent me there, and it is the money of France and not 
of the Bourbons that pays for my keeping." 

Here Philip would often visit the veteran ; and here, one 
February day in the year 1815, he and Mademoiselle had 
made their weekly call upon the old soldier. Their talk 
had been of Uncle Fauriel and of Pierre of Pierre who 
had lost his place in their good graces because he had con 
tinued as police inspector after the Bourbons had returned 
to power. 

" One can see," said Philip, " how one may hold on to his 
place in a civil bureau, as does Citizen Daunou, or live at 
the Soldiers' Home, as do you, Peyrolles, after the Bourbons 
have come in ; but how one can serve on their police, those 
who must do their dirty work, you know, as Pierre is serv 
ing, is more than I can understand." 

All of which is drawing a fine distinction ; but opinions 
as to office -holding often admit of fine distinctions even in 
other countries than France and Philip therefore felt jus 
tified in saying, " No, I cannot understand it. I am disap 
pointed in Pierre ! " 

With Mademoiselle, that February day, he had left the 
Soldiers' Home and had taken a roundabout way for their 
return, extending their walk into Philip's old quarter, from 
which the Emperor had rescued him the Fourth Ward of 
Paris and the Street of the Washerwomen. 

At the identical fountain, at the foot of that narrow and 



THE FALL OF THE TEICOLOE 261 

dirty street, where Philip and Pierre had fought their fa 
mous fight, it seemed to Philip as if that were ages ago, 
Philip and Mademoiselle stopped for a moment to look at a 
detachment of troops marching from the barriers to the mili 
tary bureau in the Place Vendome. Philip winced as he 
looked at them, as he always winced for they were no 
longer the soldiers of the Emperor ; they were the soldiers of 
the King. The white flag instead of the tricolor was borne 
in their ranks ; the white cockade instead of the tricolor de 
corated their shakos ; the white of the Kingdom rather than 
the blue of the Empire predominated in their uniforms. 

The people in the poorer quarters of Paris, never en 
thusiastic for the King, recalling the days when they and 
their fathers had put down this very race of Bourbons, 
had no ringing shout of " Long live the King ! " as, they had 
once shouted " Long live the Emperor ! " 

So the watching throng about the fountain was silent or 
sarcastic. But it was an uneasy crowd. It jostled and 
swayed and pushed, and Philip was forced to grasp Madem 
oiselle closely for her security. Gradually they were forced 
back against the stone coping of the fountain, and, as Philip 
struggled to maintain his own footing and save Mademoiselle 
from a crushing, he was startled almost to stupidity to hear 
a low but distinct whisper in his ear : " Be watchful and 
wary ! The eagle will swoop on the geese. Be swift and 
silent. The bees will soon be swarming!" 

What did it mean ? Who had spoken such a singular 
message. Philip turned slowly, not wishing to attract at 
tention. But to no purpose. The only familiar face he 
saw was that of his sister. What could it mean ? 



CHAPTER XXI 

THE SWARMING OF THE BEES 

FOR a moment Philip was too bewildered to speak. Then 
he turned a white face toward his sister. 

" Who was that ? " he asked her. 

Mademoiselle was intently watching the vanishing ranks 
of the white cockades. Philip repeated his question. Made 
moiselle looked puzzled. 

" Who was who, my Philip ? " she queried. 

" Why, did you see no one ? Did you hear nothing ? " 
Philip asked in a voice trembling with surprise and ex 
citement. 

" Why, my Philip, what can you mean ? " the girl replied. 
" What has startled you ? I saw none save the soldiers 
yonder. I heard nothing but the people all about us." 

" What was it, then ? It is all very strange, this ! " her 
brother murmured, only half aloud. Then he said sud 
denly : " What was the picture we laughed over so you 
and I a few days ago, Mademoiselle ? The one Corporal 
Peyrolles brought us ? " 

Mademoiselle rounded her pretty lips in thought. "A 
picture?" she said. "What, then do you mean that one 
where those funny fat geese were waddling up the steps 



THE SWARMING OF THE BEES 263 

of the Tuileries, and an eagle was flying away from the 
dome ? " 

"Yes, yes; that was it," Philip answered. "The geese 
and the eagle ? How odd ! But can it be so, then ? And 
why the bees ? " 

Philip pushed his chapeau back upon his head, and gave 
a long, low whistle through his half-closed teeth. Made 
moiselle looked anxious ; she began to fear something was 
the trouble with her vivacious brother. 

" What do you mean, you Philip ? " she asked him. 
" What is odd ? Can what be so ? Why do you whistle ? 
And why that picture ? " 

" Something I have just heard," was Philip's unsatisfac 
tory reply. " Let me think ; let me think. I will tell 
you later." 

Mademoiselle possessed all the curiosity which, we are 
assured, is the privilege of her sex. Philip had a secret; 
she must know what it was. So she grew more and 
more inquisitive as they hurried home ; but her brother 
answered her not a word in explanation until they were 
safely within the house on the Street of the Fight. Then 
he sought out Citizen Daunou, and told him the story of 
the mysterious message. 

The worthy Keeper of the Archives rubbed his white 
head thoughtfully. 

" You were dreaming, boy," he said ; " or else the whisper 
was but a Fourth Ward joke. They raise but rattlepates, 
you know, there in the Street of the Washerwomen. As, 
for example " ; and he clapped Philip on the shoulder. 

But the boy was in no mood for pleasantry. "Dreaming 



264 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

or awake, joke or no, my father, I heard the words," he 
declared. Then he added swiftly, "Which way, now, lies 
this Elba?" 

It was now Citizen Daunou's turn to look startled. 

" Elba ? " he said. " Why, to the southeast some two 
hundred leagues or so. But why do you ask ? " 

Mademoiselle, who had stolen in to hear, was even 
quicker-witted. She clasped her brother close. 

" To Elba, Philip ? " she cried. " You would surely not 
go there. And why?" 

"Where the bees swarm and the eagle soars," said the 
boy, more theatrically than he really intended, "there is the 
place for him who with the bees would swarm and who 
would soar with the eagle ! " 

" My faith, Philip ! " exclaimed practical Mademoiselle. 
" But what is all this we hear about bees and eagles ? Does 
it mean What ? does it, now? the Emperor ?" 

" It does ! it does, my sister ! " Philip cried, flushed with 
ardor and excitement. "Let not your tongue speak the 
wonderful message outside this house. The Emperor is 
coming back!" 

" Philip ! " the girl exclaimed, catching her brother's ex 
citement. " My father, is this so ? " 

Philip nodded energetically. And Citizen Daunou said, 
" It may be but a joke of the Washerwomen's quarter to 
stir up our Philip here, as I have told him ; but yet 
nothing is impossible to Napoleon. Nothing can surprise 
me in the ways of that wonderful man. Pray heaven he 
does not come, even though France calls him and all men 
marvel at him ! It will be a terrible mistake. No crood can 



THE SWAEMING OF THE BEES 265 

come of it. Better let the Bourbons unhorse themselves by 
their own blundering than that France should be ruined 
by a profitless frenzy and a dream of glory that can lead 
only to ruin." 

" But the Emperor is coming, you say ? " Mademoiselle 
repeated, heedless of the old man's moralizing. " Why, 
men tell us he is peaceful and satisfied there at Elba, and 
has no desire to return." 

Citizen Daunou shook his head in disbelief. " They are 
but fools who say it, -then," he replied. "Napoleon is no 
Diocletian an emperor out of business, content to raise his 
own cabbages at Salona ; he is no Charles V., resigned to 
patter prayers at St. Just. The world is not done with 
when one is but forty-five ; and abdication does not kill 
ambition. The Emperor has not yet fed full of war and 
glory. Elba is all too small a world for him to govern, and 
he will tire of it, if lie has not already done so. The Eagle 
will beat his wings until he breaks his cage bars, and will 
try a flight to Notre Dame. I know his ambition ; it is 
boundless. But such a flight will never succeed. Once 
again the Eagle may flap his wings above the dome of the 
Tuileries; but the fowling-piece that kills crows- may bring 
down an eagle, and the hunters will speedily be abroad. 
Let Napoleon stay on his island, or die in escaping from it ; 
his mission for France is ended. Fontainebleau was his 
climax. To return would be but anti-climax ; and that is 
always a mistake, is it not, you boy of the Paris schools ? " 

No doubt the wise old scholar was right. But Mademoi 
selle could not admit it; and Philip surely would not. 
When did youth ever neglect to bow before glory, or re- 

23 



266 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

fuse to yield to the spell of adventure ? Great thoughts 
were stirring in the boy's busy brain; high hopes were 
surging in his brave young heart. 

"Brush up my very best page suit, Mademoiselle my 
sister," he said ; " and keep it ready for use. Citizen Dau- 
nou, I crave your permission to go on a quest. Within a 
week I will be with you again." 

" 'A boy's will is the wind's will,' " the quiet old Keeper 
remarked. " 'T is a fool's errand, Philip, but I cannot say 
no to you. Only guard yourself, my son; be not rash. 
Eemember what I told you the hunters will speedily be 
abroad, if your message at the fountain was a true tale. 
Guard yourself for Mademoiselle's sake, for my sake, for 
France ! 

And within two hours' time Philip had left his dear ones 
in the Street of the Fight, and was off to the southward. 

The whispered message by the fountain in the Street of 
the Washerwomen was not a dream. It was a fact. The 
Emperor had escaped from Elba. He was on his way to 
France. 

He risked his head to recover his throne ; and France 
fickle France flamed out to welcome him back, though it 
knew his return might mean disturbance, distress, even war 
and death once more. 

Philip met the truth at Lyons. The air was full of ru 
mors that speedily became facts. With less than a thou 
sand of his grenadiers his " brave growlers " as he some 
times called them the Emperor had landed in France. 
The army had gone over to him, wild with joy. The Em 
pire would be proclaimed once more. France would be free 
of the Bourbons. 



THE S WARMING OF THE BEES 267 

Philip found Lyons in a ferment. Napoleon was almost 
at its gates. The Bourbon prince who commanded the 
troops gathered at that important city ordered his soldiers 
to the wall to repel or capture "the bandit from Elba." 
But what was a Bourbon prince before " our Emperor ? " 

The tidings of the imperial adventurer came thick and 
fast. Napoleon had landed near Cannes ; he had marched 
over the mountains to Dijon ; he had first fronted the white 
standard with his tricolor at Laffrey ; with bared breast he 
had faced the soldiers of the King in the Vale of Beaumont, 
bidding them welcome him or kill him ; and behold ! the 
soldiers of the King had fallen on their knees before him, 
cried " Long live the Emperor ! " and hailed him as their 
" father." He had kissed the restored eagles at Vizelle ; he 
had entered Grenoble, through the gates burst open by the 
peasants without and the revolted soldiers within ; escorted 
by mountaineers and farmers singing the Marseilles hymn, 
he had advanced from Grenoble to Lyons with his little 
"army of deliverance," already grown from one thousand 
to six thousand soldiers, wearing the tricolored cockade. Off 
hurries the Bourbon prince in terror of his life ; down go 
the barricades, wrecked by the very soldiers who had piled 
them up ; " Long live the Emperor ! " shout garrison and 
citizens ; and to the accompaniment of twenty thousand wel 
coming voices Napoleon enters Lyons. 

And there, on the steps of the Archbishop's palace, to 
which the Emperor was conducted, Philip greeted him with 
tears and laughter and a voice thrilling with passionate 
welcome. 

" What ? is it you, young Desnouettes ? " the Emperor 



268 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

cried, catching the page around the neck. " My brave boy, 
is it you ? " 

" Yes, from Paris, Sire," answered the boy ; " to greet you 
and die for you." 

" No ; live for me ; live for me, you Philip," the Emperor 
said. " And what do they say at Paris ? " 

" Sire, I did not wait to hear," answered truthful Philip. 
" I ran to join you as soon as they whispered that you had 
left for France." 

" As heedless as ever ; eh, you boy ? " and then came the 
ear-pinching that seemed so like old times come again. 
" Well ; to me, to me, my Philip ! I shall have duties for 
you." 

Three days the Emperor rested at Lyons, reviewing his 
troops, organizing his government, writing despatches, and 
sending broadcast over France those two masterly pro 
clamations that are so marked a specimen of Napoleonic 
eloquence and so rich a combination of sublimity, senti 
ment, metaphor, and, it must be admitted, what we 
should call "the highfalutin." 

Philip galloped from Lyons a day in advance of the Em 
peror, bearing messages to the friends of Napoleon in Paris, 
and spreading the wonderful tidings as he rode. France 
seemed wild with joy. Down went the white cockade ; up 
went the tricolor ; the Emperor's flower the violet blos 
somed in countless buttonholes. The lilies drooped: the 
bees were swarming everywhere. 

Philip burst into the quiet house on the Street of the 
Fight and filled it with his wonderful news. 

" He has come ; he has come back ! " he shouted. " I 
have seen the Emperor ! " 



THE SWAEMING OF THE BEES 269 

Mademoiselle laughed and cried in her excitement ; Nurse 
Marcel tore off her bonne's cap and waved it frantically: 
" Down go the aristocrats ! " she shrilled out. Citizen 
Daunou, forgetting his philosophy, pounded on the table 
and shouted " Long live the Emperor ! " Marshal, the big 
Dane, put off his dignity, and barked and capered like any 
thoughtless young puppy ; and Philip, seizing the page's 
livery that Mademoiselle thrust into his restless hands, kissed 
them all excitedly, not omitting even the vociferous Marshal, 
and rushed off to the Tuileries. 

" Eh, you boy ! Hurrah, young Desnouettes ! Where so 
fast, now? I told you the truth, did I not?" Philip paused 
in his running long enough to recognize his questioner. 

" What is it, you, Pierre ? " he cried. " Long live the 
what do you mean, though ? You told the truth ? What, 
then was it you ?" 

" At the fountain, yonder ? To be sure," Pierre said com 
posedly. " I have known what was afoot for many a day. 
Oh, we know something at headquarters, now and then. 

" And you did not seek to stop him ? Oh, Pierre ! and I 
thought you a royalist and a renegade. Kick me, Pierre. 
It is your right. How could I have doubted you ? " Philip 
was almost hysterical in his mixture of surprise and joy, as, 
repentant and rejoicing, he fell upon Pierre. 

"We who know how to open our ears and hold our 
tongues, Monsieur the page, Monsieur the lieutenant, can 
sometimes work our ways better than those who grumble 
and shout," the young inspector said. " Those who chatter, 
too often dance with the sky-mother ; l and, faith, I have no 
1 The Paris boy's name for the terrible guillotine. 



270 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

liking for her. Yes, I dropped that word of warning into 
your ear at our old fountain, and then vanished. It was 
all I dared do, then. But it worked, I see, it worked. And 
you are for ? " 

"The Tuileries, Pierre. See me again, my friend. I 
would get there before the Emperor," and in a flash Philip 
was speeding again toward the Tuileries. 

As he reached the palace, soldiers and veterans were fill 
ing the Place of the Carrousel. Among the latter Philip 
was not surprised to see old Corporal Peyrolles, proud and 
radiant. 

The veteran from the Soldiers' Home swung his cocked 
hat, graced with the tricolored cockade, and brought his 
cane to the salute, as Philip greeted him. 

" Death of my life, my infant ! " the old man cried, his 
gruff voice breaking in a high key; " but is not this glorious? 
Look at us here Arcola, the Pyramids, Marengo, Auster- 
litz, Wagram, Lutzen, Moscow, and the Clichy Gate ! we are 
all here ; and he is coming. Wait till he sees me. I '11 put 
him on the throne if I have to prop it up with my wooden 
leg, here. , Open the palace ! Pull down the white rag ! 
Out with old Grandfather In-the-soup ! In with Corporal 
Violet!" 1 

And all the old veterans tuned their cracked voices into 
the mighty yell : " Down with the white flag ! Long live 
the Little Corporal ! " 

Sure enough, to Philip's amazement and the old soldiers' 
disgust, the white flag of the Bourbons still floated from the 

1 "Father Panade" and " Corporal Violet" were soldiers' names for Louis 
XVIII. and Napoleon. 



THE S WARMING OF THE BEES 271 

Clock Tower of the Tuileries. King Louis had fled, but 
there was still a show of resistance from the National 
Guardsmen he had left in the palace. 

It is two in the afternoon. The increasing throng grows 
more insistent. The growls of the veterans, the shouts of the 
soldiers, become ominous and threatening. Then a great 
cry goes up. The gates are thrown open. Another shout. 
Down goes the white flag ; up goes the tricolor ; and, as the 
Imperial banner once again streams from the great Clock 
Tower, all Paris knows that the Bourbons have given up 
the struggle, and that the Empire has won. 

Evening came that eventful evening of Monday, the 
twentieth of March, in the year 1815. The Tuileries was 
filled with guests dressed as if for a fete night. Those who 
were in hiding, and those who had deserted King Louis, 
met to await the coming of the Emperor. The great man 
sion blazed with lights, and a page of the palace, resplen 
dent in his imperial livery, with almost beside himself for 

joy- 
it was Philip Desnouettes. He had seen the Emperor. 
He had been charged by him with messages to Paris. Philip 
was the lion of the waiting hours. He was petted and 
praised by every one. He began to feel very important 
once more. 

He could scarcely contain himself. He wished to keep 
busy, to be doing something to prove his devotion. 

The palace looked just the same. Philip could scarcely 
believe that a year had passed since he had been there. 
" Here are the same hangings," he said to himself ; " the 
same stiff, straight furniture, the same bureaus and cabinets, 



272 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

tete-a-tetes, couches and chairs, decorated with their brass 
or ormolu wreaths and festoons, sphinxes, and victories, 
and sprinkled with the no ! Halls ! What is this ? The 
lilies ? Then where are the bees ? Have the royalists dared 
remove from the palace decorations the bees of Napoleon, 
and put in their place the lilies of the Bourbons ? Why, 
this will never do ! " 

Frantic with indignant loyalty, Philip shouted : "Off with 
the lilies on with the bees ! " and falling upon the un 
offending decorations, Philip, helped by many ready hands, 
tore down the lilies from the tapestry, and stripped them 
from the coverings. From some hiding-place were brought 
the hangings that bore the bees, and reawakened loyalty 
was satisfied. 

At nine o'clock a mighty shout was heard without. 

" The Emperor ! the Emperor ! " 

The palace echoed the cry, as, across the Bridge of the 
Palace and along the Seine embankment, in through the 
Tuileries gate, thronged about by a clamorous crowd, and 
surrounded by his soldiers and his generals, Napoleon en 
tered the courtyard of the great palace. 

Then it seemed as if Paris had indeed gone mad. The 
veterans flung themselves at the Emperor's carriage. They 
seized their hero in their arms. They dragged him out ; and, 
bearing him on their shoulders, they rushed with him through 
the doorway even to the foot of the great staircase. 

The palace rocked with the shouts of welcome. The crowd 
bearing in the Emperor, and the throng pouring down the 
staircase to greet him, blocked the way. Progress was impos 
sible. People were everywhere, and Philip, standing at the 




"'OFF WITH THE LILIES ON WITH THE BEES!' 



THE SWAEMING OF THE BEES 275 

top of the noble Stairway of Honor, laughed as he cheered, 
to see Corporal Peyrolles sitting astride the great silver statue 
of Peace, his chapeau waving at the end of his cane, his face 
red with shouting and streaked with tears of joy. 

At last a passage-way was broken through the crowd. 
Philip and Monsieur de Lavalette backed their way aloft to 
keep the passage open ; and so, up the clamoring stairway, 
along the Gallery of Diana, through the Blue Eoom, and 
into the Emperor's study, amid tears and cheers and shouts, 
and tossing of hats, and waving of handkerchiefs, the Emperor 
came to his own again. In twenty days after leaving Elba 
Napoleon had regained his empire. With but a thousand 
grenadiers he had conquered thirty millions of people. The 
swarming of the Bees closed in a carnival of joy. 

In the Emperor's study, breathless and weeping with the 
excitement of the home-coming, Napoleon looked about him. 
The closed doors of the study shut out the happy crowd. At 
his feet he saw a kneeling figure, dressed in the crimson, 
green, and gold of a page of the palace. 

" What, it is you again, my Philip ! " exclaimed the Em 
peror. " And in your page's livery. Eise, my boy. You 
are a page no longer. Such devotion merits a higher service. 
See ; my fortune shall be yours ! Did I not tell you once 
that he who rides and he who writes merit often as much 
esteem as he who bears the musket or wields the sword ? I 
make you a member of the Legion of Honor. Here, Bert- 
rand, Lavalette, some one give me a cross ! What ! none 
will spare me one ? " No one would. Crosses of the Legion 
were to be displayed just then ; they were treasured too 
highly to be given to a boy. " Here then ! " and impulsively 



276 



A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 



the Emperor tore the cherished decoration from his own 
breast, pinned it on the lad's green coat, and pinching his 




THE EMPEROR DECORATES PHILIP WITH HIS OWN CROSS OF THE 
LEGION OF HONOR. 

ear affectionately, cried to General Bertrand, who stood be 
side him, " Grand Marshal, here is a new officer of my house 
hold ! Captain Desnouettes page and lieutenant no longer, 



THE SWARMING OF THE BEES 277 

you are a brevet-officer^ specially attached to my person. 
Serve me as comrade as faithfully as you have as page, and 
France shall be proud of you." 

And, while the boy trembled with delight and pride, the 
Emperor caught him to his breast and kissed him on the 
cheek. 

So Philip, by a faithfulness that never faltered, and a 
loyalty that never wavered, gained the prize all French 
men coveted. 

Thus he won the Cross. 



CHAPTEE XXII 

"INTO THE FURNACE-FLAME" 

AT once Philip was head over ears in business. If the 
-^- Emperor was gracieus and appreciative, he was also a 
hard taskmaster when work was to be done. And there 
was work unending to be done when, once again, in the 
palaces of Paris, the imperial government was in active 
operation. Day and night Napoleon, desiring peace, but pre 
paring for war, was closeted in consultation with his ministers. 

His return from Elba flamed like a comet in the skies 
of Europe. Kings were startled, princes trembled, allies who 
had deserted and foes who had plotted against him read 
vengeance in his return ; and with a united growl of rage the 
nations of Europe combined for his overthrow. All the 
sovereigns signed that declaration of hate and terror, drawn 
up by a Frenchman whom Napoleon had loaded with favors, 
which proclaimed to the world that " Napoleon Bonaparte, by 
reappearing in France, is placed outside of all relations, both 
civil and social, and, as an enemy and disturber of the peace 
of the world, he is handed over to public vengeance." 

Thus did the kings and ministers who once had bowed in 
homage to the Emperor now proclaim him outlaw and out 
cast. Napoleon sought peace with all nations. He wished 
only to unite France. 

278 



"INTO THE FURNACE-FLAME" 279 

" The first desire of my heart," he wrote to the kings of 
Europe, " is to repay the affection of my people by maintain 
ing an honorable tranquillity." 

And when told that one of the Bourbon princes would 
perhaps be captured in France, he said, " If so, treat him 
with every respect. I wish that Europe should see the dif 
ference between me and the crowned brigands who have set 
a price upon my head." 

But though he worked and wished for peace, he knew he 
must prepare for war. All Europe was arming against 
him. France must be ready to resist. 

So the Emperor and those about him worked day and 
night. They worked until even Philip's vigorous nature 
gave out, and one night, set to a certain task, weariness got 
the better of ability, his head dropped upon the table before 
him, and the secretary slept at his post. 

How long he slept he did not know, but he awoke with a 
start to see the Emperor in a chair beside him, doing his 
work for him. 

Mortified beyond measure Philip sprang to his feet. The 
Emperor wrote on. Then he said to the secretary : 

" Well, sir, you see I have been doing your work, since 
you would not do it yourself. No doubt you had a hearty 
supper at Tortoni's or the Thousand Columns, and after that 
a good time with the other boys. It was all very pleasant, 
no doubt ; but that is no excuse. Business is business and 
must not be neglected." 

" A good time ! I, Sire ? " exclaimed honest Philip. " Does 
this look like it ? I have worked for your majesty night 
and day ; I have scarcely had a full night's sleep in a week, 



280 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

and this is the consequence. I am sorry for it, Sire. I ask 
your pardon." 

It was now the Emperor who was moved. "My poor 
boy ! " he said. " I did not know of this. My Philip, I am 
no slave-driver. I have no wish to kill you. A healthy 
boy needs his sleep. Go to bed; go to bed at once, sir. 
Good night to you ! " 

But Philip pleaded to remain and retrieve himself, pro 
testing his ability to work now that he had stolen a nap ; 
and the Emperor, laughing, said, "Well, Captain Philip, 
we will compromise ; we two. Do this bit, and then get you 
to bed. Copy this draft of a decree. You can read my 
villainous handwriting and we need not wait for Baron 
Fain. I wish to issue it at once. I told you but now, did 
I not, that I was no slave-driver ? This, too, will prove it." 

And in the still hours of that March night, in the Em 
peror's study at the Tuileries, Philip copied, and Napoleon 
signed, a paper which undid the Bourbons' feudal brutality, 
anticipated the ponderous pens of the slow-going diplomats 
of the Vienna Congress which had declared him an outlaw, 
and gave to the "hundred days" of Napoleon's fleeting 
second reign a glory which the world has not yet sufficiently 
acknowledged the decree abolishing forever in all the col 
onies of France the hateful and degrading slave-trade. 

Philip, it must be confessed, thought but little of this act 
of justice, which the nations tardily followed. But when, 
dismissed for his sleep, upon which the Emperor insisted, he 
went, later, to breakfast with his sister, Citizen Daunou 
hailed the news of the Emperor's decree with delight. 

" I take back my words," the liberty-loving Keeper of the 



"INTO THE FURNACE-FLAME" 281 

Archives said. " I told you no good could come of the Em 
peror's flight from Elba. I was wrong. Good has come of 
it. For, if he shall accomplish nothing else, he has re 
affirmed the principles of the Eepublic and set the world a 
lesson in liberty. Toussaint 1'Ouverture is avenged by the 
very man who, years ago, crushed that black patriot beneath 
his imperial will." 

The days went on. In Europe a million men were arm 
ing for the fray that all the world saw was inevitable. In 
France, the Emperor was preparing for resistance. The old 
regiments were filled up. The veterans drew from their 
hiding-places at the bottom of knapsacks or inside their 
drums the discarded tricolor they would not throw away, 
and hastened to rally around the eagles ; the conscripts 
gathered at the stations with knapsacks, cartridge-box, and 
musket. Steadily and surely the day of Waterloo drew 
near. 

" The flag we have dyed with our blood will lead us again 
to glory ! ," cried Corporal Peyrolles, turning to his own use 
the words of his Emperor's proclamation. But Mademoiselle, 
always practical, declared she could not see how Corporal 
Peyrolles could do any more than stump along to glory, and 
that for her part she thought it would be best for him to 
stay at home and protect Paris while the Emperor faced the 
foreigners. It would be too distracting for the Emperor, 
she said, if Peyrolles were along; for, of course, the 
Corporal would wish to run things, and that, she declared, 
would be quite too confusing and would read so oddly in 
the bulletins. Whereupon Corporal Peyrolles called her a 
saucy minx, but admitted that he thought himself quite as 



282 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

competent to advise the Emperor as those dukes and mar 
shals he still kept about him. 

" Let but Philip get speech for me with the Emperor," the 
Corporal protested, " and I will show him how to get rid of 
these pigs of Prussians, these curs of Englishmen, these 
beasts of Russians. Take 'em on the flank, take 'ern on the 
flank, I say. Why, at the Pyramids no, it was before 
Jaffa I said to the Emperor he was not Emperor then, 
you know I said to him, ' My General,' said I " 

But Mademoiselle saucily pulled the Corporal's long 
moustache and ran away. " That is what the Emperor did, 
my Corporal, did he not now at the Pyramids no, it was 
before Jaffa," she cried merrily ; and then left poor old Pey- 
rolles fuming "over the " heedlessness of these women," who 
always will " spoil a good story," so he grumbled. 

The invaders of France gathered beyond its borders ; the 
defenders of France marched to the frontiers. The Em 
peror, professing his desire only to promote the good of 
France, granted a new constitution which would give greater 
liberty to the people, and held, on the Field of Mars, fronting 
the flashing Seine, a splendid fete and open-air display, still 
famous as the gorgeous "Field of May." There on his 
throne, surrounded by his brothers and his great officers of 
state, Napoleon reviewed his fifty thousand troops and 
aroused the cheers of the people, always ready to enjoy 
a show in which glitter and gorgeousness and imperial 
splendor, music and marching, and all the theatrical acces 
sories were spread before their eyes with all the old-time 
magnificence. 

Seated upon his throne, the Emperor reviewed his troops, 



"INTO THE FURNACE-FLAME" 283 

received the electors and dignitaries of the Empire, and 
swore allegiance to the new constitution. 

" Frenchmen ! " he said, " my will is that of the people. 
My rights are theirs. My honor, my glory, my happiness 
cannot be other than the honor, the glory, the happiness of 
France. 

"Soldiers ! I confide to you the imperial eagle of the na 
tional colors. Swear to defend it with your blood against the 
enemies of the fatherland. Swear to die rather than to 
suffer strangers to make laws for the fatherland." 

And all the soldiers cried, " We swear it ! " and the people 
shouted " Long live the Emperor ! " 

But the enemies of France were marching ; the " strangers " 
were coming to bring blood and ruin to the fatherland. 
The shadow of the conflict seemed already to rest upon the 
imperial adventurer throned in his splendid palace of the 
Tuileries. 

" Is not the Emperor glorious ? " cried enthusiastic Philip, 
after the gorgeous ceremonial of the Field of May was over, 
as he walked into the dear house in the Street of the Fight. 
" Was not that fete magnificent ? " 

" Call it a funeral rather than a fete, my son," Citizen 
Daunou said, sadly. His momentary enthusiasm after the 
Emperor's dramatic return was gone. His clear vision saw 
the trouble that was in store for France. " And the Em 
peror ? Glorious, perhaps, as you say, with his imperial robes 
and his words of fire. But to me he is no longer the Em 
peror of 1810. His counselors are nerveless ; they are 
timid ; to me, they seem to have the vertigo. He, alas ! is 
languid ; only on great occasions does the old spirit flame 



284 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

out. He seems full of melancholy. His haughtiness has 
softened almost to entreaty ; his pride to gentleness. Good 
signs if all were well, my Philip ; but all is not well, my 
Philip. The Emperor sees the shadow of failure. France 
is noisy in her crowds ; she is vociferous in her soldiers ; but 
this is not the zeal Napoleon hoped for is not the zeal of 
a united nation. His enemies are pitiless ; his friends are 
uncertain. He has no ally, no vassal, no imperial power. 
He wishes peace, he must have war. How will that end?" 

Philip, as usual, scoffed in his heart at this gloomy pic 
ture, and expressed to Mademoiselle the wish that Citizen 
Daunou were more patriotic. "Why does he talk of failure ? " 
the boy demanded. " The Emperor cannot fail. The army 
and the nation are at his back. Defeated ? Never ! That is 
no way for a Frenchman to talk. I really must bring Pey- 
rolles here again to reason with our excellent father." 

Boys and girls can seldom go beneath the surface of things, 
as do their elders. And it is well, perhaps; for youth is the 
time of hope. Philip certainly saw none of the signs of 
sadness that Citizen Daunou detected. " Just let him work 
beside the Emperor for a day as I do," the boy declared, "and 
my faith ! it is he that will be the sad one from too much 
work." To Philip the Emperor was still the Emperor great, 
powerful, victorious, invincible. Philip knew that he would 
conquer ; that once again he would give the law to Europe. 
This, each day, was the burden of the brave boy's song. 

The work increased in the palace, as the time for the con 
flict approached. Napoleon had done marvels. Within two 
months he had raised, equipped, and officered an army of 
three hundred thousand men. Arsenals, factories, and mili- 



"INTO THE FUKNACE-FLAME" 285 

tary shops were busy ; trade was good ; business was flourish 
ing. What more could France wish ? 

Philip, growing older and more observant, saw and 
treasured up many of the ways of this remarkable man, upon 
whom the eyes of the world were fixed. Many times in after 
years would he recall the picture of the Emperor in those 
last busy mornings in his study the stout, short-legged, 
long-bodied figure, now grown somewhat heavy in face and 
person, sitting at the desk, or restlessly pacing the floor, head 
down, hands clasped behind his back, forever sniffing at the 
snuff he did not take, reading letters, dictating replies and 
messages, keeping his marvelous memory in full play as to 
methods, details, and men, pleasant of voice, courteous in 
manner, with but little of the old-time impatience and im- 
periousness, and in his eyes that tinge of melancholy that 
even thoughtless Philip had noted ever since the sad day 
when the Emperor found that his Austrian wife had de 
serted him, and the son whom he loved so dearly had been 
stolen from him. 

Thus Philip studied him one day, as Napoleon paced the 
room dictating, advising, commanding. The shapely fingers 
that were the Emperor's "pride," and which he could often be 
caught admiring, were dipped again and again into the tor 
toise-shell snuff-box crowned with the imperial N. Philip 
stood at the table waiting for a message he was to deliver. 
The Emperor, laying his snuff- box on the table, turned to con 
sult a letter that bore on the matter in hand. The snuff-box 
stood invitingly open, and Philip, heedless as ever, could not 
resist the temptation. With a wink at young Gudin, the 
Emperor's page, as if to say : " See, you boy ! how ' chummy' 



286 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

are the Emperor and I," Philip dipped his fingers into the 
open snuff-box and took a pinch. 

Page Gudin was duly horrified and duly impressed. But, 
as luck would have it Philip's usual luck the Emperor, 
raising his eyes at just the wrong instant, caught sight 
of Philip's bold act in the mirror before him. Turning 
sharply, Napoleon took the snuff-box from the table and 
with a quick motion thrust it straight toward the mortified 
Philip. 

" Still the same old Philip, eh, you boy ? " the Emperor 
said. " Even the Cross of the Legion has not fully made 
the page into the man ! Here ! Keep the box, Captain 
Desnouettes. It is too small for both of us." And, with a 
silent laugh at the young fellow's discomfiture, the Emperor 
went on dictating as if nothing had happened, while Page 
Gudin had to stuff his shoulder-ribbons into his mouth to 
keep from laughing aloud, and all the other secretaries ex 
changed winks and shrugs. 

But Philip kept the box. 

At last came the June Sunday when, with his old-time 
ease and affability, as if peace and not war were universal, 
the Emperor held his final reception in the great gallery of 
the Louvre. 

The whole front of the Tuileries was ablaze with light, 
and the people coming from the public games that had been 
given them in the Elysian Fields, cheered the Emperor as he 
came out to them on the iron balcony of the Clock Tower 
and watched the display of fireworks. 

Philip marveled at the self-possession of the man ; he 
knew how great a host was gathered beyond the frontiers 



"INTO THE FURNACE-FLAME" 287 

for the Emperor's overthrow, and how soon Napoleon must 
hasten there to resist and repel invasion. 

On the twelfth of June, 1815, Napoleon left Paris for 
the seat of war. On the fifteenth the French army crossed 
the river Sambre and fell upon the enemy. Then came 
Waterloo. 

Waterloo ! that famous battle, where Napoleon first met 
the unconquerable English face to face ; where Wellington 
made his name immortal ; that battle glittering in its array, 
brilliant in its manoeuvres, terrible in its intensity, horrible 
in its loss of life ; that battle remarkable for little blunders 
that led to great results, and magnificent attempts that 
amounted to nothing ; that battle so nearly a defeat for 
England, so nearly a victory for France, that to this day men 
cannot see just how it turned the other way, and historians 
and military writers are even yet disputing as to the re 
sponsibility and discussing the operations ! 

It is not for us to describe nor discuss it here. Napoleon 
was beaten conquered, it may be, as the English say, by 
Wellington; conquered, it may be, as the Germans claim, by 
Bliicher ; conquered, it may be, as declares Victor Hugo, the 
Frenchman, by the will of Heaven, because " for Bonaparte 
to be the conqueror at Waterloo was not in the law of the 
nineteenth century. Napoleon had been impeached before 
the Infinite and his fall was decreed. He had vexed God." 

The end of it all the inexplicable, the unexpected, the 
impossible, Philip did not see. In his uniform of a special 
officer of ordonnance, he was in constant attendance on the 
Emperor, riding here, writing there; now in the saddle, now 
by the Emperor's side, despatching messages, bearing mes- 



288 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

sages, galloping from point to point, now on the rear of the 
battle, now in its very front, dodging bullets, dodging 
charges, restless, active, exultant. He knew from the start 
that "his Emperor" would win. He heard Napoleon say, 
making fun of Wellington, " The little Englishman must 
have his lesson " ; he heard him declare of those same Eng 
lish soldiers, " I had rather cut them to pieces than repulse 
them"; he heard him cry to Ney, "We have ninety chances 
in a hundred ! " His faith in his leader never for an instant 
wavered. 

In all those terrible three days of desperate fighting Philip 
had been in the thick of it ; cutting his way, when need 
was, through every living obstacle, escaping, with his usual 
" Philip's luck," the pitiless pelting of that rain of fire and 
death. He had waved his hat exultantly as the Prussians 
fell back, defeated, at Ligny ; he had watched breathlessly, 
the stubborn fight at Quatre Bras ; he had cheered fran 
tically as his old schoolfellow, big Vieux of the Polytechnic 
heaved down the door of the farmhouse at Hougoumont that 
sheltered the English line; he had caught the gleam of 
victory in the Emperor's eye, as, rising in his stirrups, Napo 
leon saw Wellington's troops pushed back toward the 
Soignes Forest. He knew the battle was won. 

He saw that never-forgotten figure, now familiar to all the 
world the clear-cut profile beneath the plain chapeau, the 
green uniform of the chasseurs, with its white facings, its 
broad red sash, and the long gray overcoat, the leather 
breeches, the high boots, the big white horse with the crim 
son velvet housings. He heard the quick, brief order to 
Milhaud's cuirassiers to charge the English on the plains of 




"'RIDE I.IKE THE WIND TO PARIS. TELL THEM THE BATTLE IS WON."' 



"INTO THE FUKNACE-FLAME" 291 

St. Jean ; then he caught the voice of the Emperor, satisfied, 
abrupt, triumphant : " Captain Desnouettes, about ! Eide 
like the wind to Paris ! Tell them the battle is won I " 

And Philip rode to Paris eager, flushed, exultant, proud 
of the news he bore. 

Alas ! he did not see the end the splendid charge of 
those mail-clad squadrons; the terrible tragedy of the sunken 
road of Chain ; the unyielding stand of the English squares ; 
the repulse; the coming of Bliicher ; the wild flight; the race 
with death ; the panic ; the disgrace ; the last charge of the 
Guard ; the heroic stand of that immortal company who died 
but never surrendered, who, marching on to certain death, 
never flinched, never faltered, never gave one backward look, 
but 

Saluting their divinity, erect amid the storm, 

One cry, " Long live the Emperor ! " the last their pale lips form. 

Then, with the music on ahead, all passionless and slow, 

And smiling at the English guns, black yawning there below, 

With lifted heads, with flashing eyes, with hearts no fear can tame, 

The Imperial Guard went forward into the furnace flame. 

Then they, too, died. "Waterloo was won. Napoleon's 
star had set forever. 

Changing horses as he rode, Philip galloped on. He car 
ried his news to Paris. The city heard it with shouts of joy. 
The young captain, wearied with his desperate ride, reported 
at headquarters, and then flung himself into the quiet house 
on the Street of the Fight to rest awhile, and then go out for 
later tidings of the victory. 

Alas ! all too soon the tidings came. The courier whom 



292 A BOY OF THE FIEST EMPIRE 

Philip had passed, riding out as he was galloping in, brought 
back the sad news that met him on the way. Philip's ride 
had been in vain. In the early morning, the defeated Em 
peror came wearily into the courtyard of the little Elysian 
palace on the Street of St. Honore 1 , conquered, ruined, over 
thrown. 

But as he stepped from the carriage, and one of his gene 
rals said, sadly, " All is lost," Philip, broken with rage and 
disappointment, saw the Emperor lift his head proudly, and 
reply in those famous words of an earlier, and, like him, a 
conquered king of France, " Save honor ! " 

And Philip felt that even yet there was hope. 



CHAPTEE XXIII 



IT was a stubborn fight with Fate that went on in the 
gilded Elysian palace on the Street of St. Honore in those 
bright days of a Paris June. An Emperor was trying the hard 
task of ruling his own spirit ; a conqueror was set to the bit 
ter struggle of conquering himself. Than this there is no 
harder task in the world, whether for boy or Emperor. 

In this fight, allies were not to be depended upon ; foes 
really \vere friends. For the first would have tempted 
the overpowered monarch to stand at bay against victorious 
Europe and mistrusting France ; the others were determined 
to drive him from France at all hazards. And, in his case, 
to go was his only safety ; though had he died fighting for 
his lost crown, history would have given him even greater 
glory. 

The end came. When his ministers set themselves up to 
be his masters ; when those he had most richly rewarded 
became his most relentless foes ; when France refused to ac 
knowledge as its ruler a man twice "overthrown"; when from 
those to whom he looked for counsel came only lukewarm 
loyalty, false protestations, or unwelcome truth ; when, from 
anger at the unreliable Chamber of Deputies, whom he, like 
Cromwell, threatened to turn out " neck and heels," he would 



294 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

change to indecision, silence, even timidity, it was plain 
there was but one thing to do. He did it. On June 22, 1815, 
Napoleon signed a second abdication, proclaimed his little 
son, whom Austria had kidnapped, Emperor of the French, 
and three days after left Paris forever. 

He drove to Malmaison, twelve miles from Paris, that 
beautiful estate, half palace, half villa, which had been the 
home of the Empress Josephine. Here Napoleon had spent 
many happy hours in his days of power and prosperity ; here 
Josephine had died while he was at Elba ; here the Emperor 
had planned out his greatest campaigns, his most glorious 
victories. And here Philip came to him. 

Philip could not he would not renounce his loyalty, his 
devotion, his love. There are some natures which are truest 
when clouds are darkest, and when days are most threaten 
ing. Such was that of Philip Desnouettes. 

Such, indeed, were yet many of the people of France and 
the soldiers who had fought for the Emperor; old friends who 
had shared alike his pomp and his vicissitudes ; men and wo 
men who had sent their sons to die for France and the Em 
peror, and would not admit his weakness even when fate 
seemed so set against him; boys who had been brought up to 
have faith in Napoleon's glory as in the sun, and would not 
believe there was such a thing as eclipse. 

So Philip, loyal and hopeful still, followed the Emperor to 
Malmaison. He had almost had a falling-out with Citizen 
Daunou, because that stanch old republican had favored the 
removal of Napoleon, and, with Lafayette, had cried for the 
restoration of the Republic. 

Philip cared nothing for a republic. To him, knowing 
nothing of such a relief from tyranny, a government meant 



HOW PHILIP PLAYED THE STOWAWAY 295 

only the Emperor. So here he was at Malmaison, ready to 
fight for the Emperor if need be to die with him or for him, 
so constant was his loyalty, so deep his affection. 

" Get me speech with the Emperor, young Desnouettes," a 
voice said at his elbow, as he was about to enter the palace ; 
" I have something for his good." 

Philip turned about. The speaker was Pierre, the inspector 
of police. 

" It is you, Pierre ? " Philip exclaimed. " What have you 
to say ? " 

" That is for his ear, yonder, my friend," Pierre replied. 
" Get me speech with him, and quickly. Time presses both 
him and me." 

" So, my boy ! it is you ? " Napoleon exclaimed as Philip 
was ushered into his presence. " Ever faithful, eh ! " and 
he embraced the boy warmly. 

The Emperor looked worn and "heavy," colorless and 
sad. Philip was almost startled at the change; but "My 
faith ! " he said to himself, " think what he has gone 
through ! Who would n't look badly after such a strain ? " 
and then he burst out with the feelings that were tugging at 
his heart. 

" I had to come, Sire," he cried. " My place is by your 
side, if but you will permit me. Use me as you will. See ; 
I am ready. I will work for you ; I will follow you ; I will 
die for you. Your enemies are afoot. They plot your ruin. 
Bid me remain by you. I swear to kill the first traitor who 
dares to lay hand upon my sovereign." 

Napoleon's eyes filled with tears as he listened to the ex 
cited boy's pledges of affection. His listlessness gave way to 
interest. 



296 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

" Brave boy ! " he said. " Were others like you I might 
yet save France. But no. They are all the slaves of the 
Allies those sovereigns of Europe whom once I spared, and 
who now dishonor themselves in persecuting me. Imbeciles ! 
They would give me up to-day to save France so they say; 
to-morrow they will give up France to save their own pre 
cious heads. I alone could retrieve all." 

Philip fired with enthusiasm. " You can, Sire. You will. 
Your ariny is gathering almost within call. It will rally 
around you. In your soldiers yet remain patriotism and the 
hope of glory. They are for France and the Emperor. With 
you to lead them, nothing is to be despaired of." 

The Emperor reflected. Already action was becoming a 
task. " A divided nation and all Europe to face ! " he said. 
" It is too desperate a chance. I dare not plunge France 
again into war. And yet, we must think of it carefully, my 
Philip." 

Then Philip remembered that Pierre was waiting. He 
communicated the young inspector's request. 

" What ! he who is one day to be minister of police ? " 
said the Emperor. " Bid him enter." 

Pierre came speedily. 

" At great risk I am come, Sire," he said, " for things are 
not going your way at headquarters. But while a chance 
remains to aid him who gave me my step, I seize it. I bring 
you word from friends. I am charged with an offer for safety. 
See ; at Havre awaits an American merchant- vessel ; her cap 
tain stays for you in Paris. Horses are ready. Everything 
is prepared. At your orders the captain will sail. To-mor 
row you may be at sea, safe under the American flag, secure 



HOW PHILIP PLAYED THE STOWAWAY 299 

from your enemies, free to go wherever you choose. Sire, 
will you accept ? " 

Napoleon sat silent. Then he said, " You are a clever one, 
Monsieur the inspector. And you will swear to me this is 
not a blind a plot ? I thank you and my friends. It 
might be well. I could go to America get some land be 
a farmer end my days in peace. Or, if the land of Wash 
ington rejects me, I could go to Mexico ; I could lead the 
Independents there ; I might perhaps even found a new 
Empire of the West. But no," he said, shaking his head; 
"flight I disdain. It is not for me to skulk in secret from 
my foes. It is the duty of France to protect me." 

Philip, too, was in doubt. He could not bear to think of 
his hero as flying secretly from France. To him, indeed, 
France without Napoleon was as day without the sun. 

" But, Sire," said Pierre, " reflect ! The allies are marching 
on Paris. They will surround Malmaison. Bliicher swears 
your destruction. At any moment his cavalry can cross the 
Seine, capture you, and carry you off. Listen ! do you hear 
that ? It is the sound of the Prussian cannon." As he spoke 
the distant boom of cannon fell upon their ears. The enemy 
was, indeed, at Compiegne. 

The guns of his foemen acted upon the Emperor like a 
tonic. His indecision flamed into action. "The enemy at 
Compiegne ? " he cried. " To-morrow they may be in Paris ! 
It is time to act. Those people at Paris are fools and trai 
tors. Boys, there are a hundred thousand of my soldiers be 
hind the Loire. At their head I can conquer. Here, Philip; 
write ! and you, Monsieur the inspector, deliver the message 
I would send at once to those waverers at Paris. I may yet 
save France." 



300 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

At the Emperor's dictation, Philip wrote rapidly, to the 
Provisional Government at Paris : 

"In abdicating power I have not renounced the noblest 
right of the citizen the right of defending my country. 
The enemy's approach to the capital no longer leaves the 
least doubt as to their intentions or their bad faith. In these 
grave circumstances I offer my services as general. I ask to 
serve France for the last time, and I swear to save it." 

" There, Monsieur the inspector," said Napoleon, signing 
the note, " give this to Caulaincourt. He is my faithful friend. 
It need not compromise you. Assure him that when the 
enemy is driven from France I will myself retire. Go." 

"And the American vessel, Sire ? " queried Pierre. 

" It must sail without me. Now it is for us to save 
France." 

Philip caught the Emperor's flash of enthusiasm. He hur 
ried Pierre from the palace. 

" But it is to no purpose, my Philip," the inspector said. 
" Touche* and those others at Paris will listen to no such 
splendid schemes. Above all else they wish to get the Em 
peror away and make their peace with the Bourbons. They 
fear Napoleon; and now that they have him down, they will 
keep him down. He should have accepted my offer." 

Napoleon was pacing his room when Philip returned ; he 
was issuing his orders with his old-time energy. So sure 
was he of this call from Paris, so filled was he with the idea 
of action and leadership again, that he dressed himself in his 
chasseur uniform, called his aides about him, had his horses 
saddled and in readiness to mount, and waited anxiously for 
the summons. 



HOW PHILIP PLAYED THE STOWAWAY 301 

He paced the room restlessly. "Why does no answer 
come ? " he cried. " Perhaps Caulaincourt could not arrange 
it. Captain Desnouettes, go you. Take one of the horses. 
Hasten to Paris. See Caulaincourt, see Fouche, anyone. 
Tell them I am ready. Arrange for my coming." 

Philip caught the spirit of his master. He was goon riding 
in haste to Paris. The first official he encountered at the 
Tuileries was Davout, minister of war Davout, whom Na 
poleon had raised from lieutenant to be marshal, duke, and 
prince of the Empire. 

To him Philip told the Emperor's desire. The " butcher 
of Hamburg," as the Prussians called Davout, fumed with 
rage. 

" You are fools, you and your Emperor ! " he cried. " Tell 
Bonaparte to get out. We do not want him. We have had 
far too much of him. We can neither fight nor negotiate 
while he remains. If he thinks he can be chief and master 
again, he is mightily mistaken. Tell him to get out, to go 
anywhere and speedily too, or I will have him arrested, 
even if I have to grab him by the collar myself." 

Philip was almost speechless at such brutal and vindictive 
words from one of Napoleon's old-time friends and followers. 
Then he assumed his most dignified bearing. 

" Monsieur the marshal," he said, " T have far too much 
respect for the Emperor and for you to carry such a mes 
sage." 

The war minister turned on him savagely. "Who are 
you, boy ? " he said. " What are you ? An officer of France, 
sir. I am your superior. Get you to the station at Fontaine- 
bleau straight and there await my orders." 



302 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

" Sir," said plucky Philip, " I take orders from no one 
save my master, the Emperor. I, at least, will not desert 




"'l WILL PUNISH YOU FOR THIS ! ' THE ENRAGED MARSHAL CRIED." 

the man to whom others, even more his debtors, deny their 
oath of loyalty." 

" Puppy ! " the enraged marshal cried. " Do you hear me ? 
I will punish you for this." 



HOW PHILIP PLAYED THE STOWAWAY 303 

" You shall not. I will give you no chance," Philip re 
turned, quite as hotly. " I resign my commission as captain 
in the army. I notify you of this, Monsieur the marshal. 
Henceforth I obey only my honor." 

Then, turning, he sprang to his horse and rode to Malmai- 
son, leaving the war minister fuming with rage. And thus 
Philip threw away his commission. 

" What ? " cried Napoleon, when, as Philip returned to 
Malmaison, he read failure in the young man's face. " They 
do not refuse, do they ? " 

" They do, Sire," Philip replied, and told of his reception. 

At first Napoleon blazed out in wrath. "Arrest me ? me? 
Davout says so ? " he cried. Then the reaction came. He 
ilung oft' his uniform. He sank into a chair. " Well, let him 
come," he said resignedly. " I am ready, if necessary, to lay 
my head on the block. I will be a sacrifice for France." 

Again he sank into lethargy ; again Philip, alarmed for the 
Emperor's safety, dashed out for news. He feared, lest Da 
vout should carry out his threat. But he learned news even 
more serious. 

" The enemy have surrounded Paris," he reported. " They 
have almost Hanked Malmaison. Bliicher swears to take you 
prisoner, and hang you in sight of the invading armies. It 
is either fight here, or fly at once. Sire, which shall it be ? 
We can defend you. We will to the death ! But it would 
be your death, too; for we could not long hold Malmaison 
against the enemy. Say but the word, though, and here we 
are, ready to shout, ' For France and the Emperor ! ' and die 
defending you." 

Again Napoleon started to his feet. He drew his sword. 



304 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

" Let us defend ourselves, my friends," he cried. " Let us 
die for Trance ! Alas ! " he said, changing from energy to 
sadness, " it is of no avail. It would be but a useless sacri 
fice. The people at Paris have no patriotism. They have 
no energy. All is over. Let us go into exile." 

Swiftly the orders were given. The Emperor assumed the 
citizen's dress. He said good-by to his mother, his brothers, 
his household, little thinking he would never see them again ; 
and that same evening two carriages drove from Malmaison, 
carrying Napoleon and his few personal friends to the sea- 
coast, where, at Eochefort, it was said, a French frigate waited 
to carry the discrowned Emperor to a place of safety. 

Philip rode on the coachman's box as in his palmy days of 
pagedom. He would not desert his hero. 

The journey into exile was full of exciting adventures. 
Wherever he was recognized Napoleon was greeted with the 
hail that had ever been as incense and inspiration : " Long 
live the Emperor ! " His exile was almost a triumph. Philip 
felt that if the Emperor would but exhibit his old-time en 
ergy and take a determined stand, the return from Elba 
might be repeated. But it was too late. The old fire smol 
dered ; its flaming-up was only momentary. Napoleon still 
hoped against hope for a recall to Paris. 

At last he reached Eochefort. He had delayed too long. 
Escape was impossible. The harbor was blockaded by the 
English fleet. 

Then Napoleon, ready with devices and quick with sur 
prises, outdid himself in surprising. " I will board one of 
the English vessels," he said. " I will throw myself on the 
hospitality of England. General Gourgaud, you and Captain 



HOW PHILIP PLAYED THE STOWAWAY 305 

Desnouettes shall go to London for me. I will send a re 
quest to the Prince liegent." 

Protests were unavailing. Napoleon had made up his 
mind. And then it was that he wrote the famous letter 
which Lamartine called the appeal of a great soul struggling 
with the extremities of fate : 

ROYAL HIGHNESS : A victim to the factions which divide my coun 
try and to the enmity of the great powers of Europe, I have ended my 
political career, and come, like Themistocles, to sit down beside the 
hearths of the British people. I place myself under the protection of 
their laws, which I claim from your Royal Highness, as the most pow 
erful, the most constant, and the most generous of my enemies. 

NAPOLEON. 

This was the letter which, accompanying General Gour- 
gaud, Philip bore to London. The boy was well-nigh dazed 
with this unexpected decision of the badgered Emperor. 
They sailed on a small vessel, which the English permitted 
to pass the blockade, and were soon in London. 

Then Napoleon, bidding adieu to France to France which 
had once exulted in him and now cast him out went on 
board the English frigate Bellerophon, as guest and not as 
prisoner, and sailed for England. 

But England feared its dethroned rival too greatly to be 
magnanimous ; it feared him too much to be hospitable. The 
ministers of the Prince Eegent refused Napoleon's request. 
They had " the Corsican ogre " at last in their power. They 
would punish and imprison him. 

Thus Philip's mission proved a failure, and when, by the 
side of brave General Gourgaud, he rode into Plymouth, he 
knew that there was now neither safety, salvation, nor the 



306 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

hope of rescue for his Emperor. Already, he knew, the de 
cree had gone forth that consigned the most marvelous man 
of modern times, the conqueror of Europe, the terror of Eng 
land, to a lifelong captivity at St. Helena that prison-rock 
across five thousand miles of sea. 

Napoleon was transferred to the frigate Northumberland. 
His protest was recorded : 

I am not the prisoner, I am the guest of England [he wrote] .... 
I appeal to history. It will say that an enemy, who for twenty years 
had fought the English people, went of his own accord in the hour of 
misfortune to seek an asylum under the protection of their laws. What 
more striking proof could he give of his esteem and confidence ? But 
how did England reply ? It pretended to hold out a hospitable hand 
to this enemy ; and, when he had taken it with confidence, England 
immolated him. 

The Emperor's protest was of no avail. England was de 
termined. Napoleon must go. 

The farewells were said with all the accompaniment of 
tears and embraces that are a part of the impulsive French 
nature. " Farewell, my friends," said the Emperor. " Be 
happy. My thoughts will never leave you, nor any of those 
who have served me. Tell France that I pray for her." 

But where was Philip ? Included among those who had 
been permitted to come on board the Northumberland to say 
good-by to Napoleon, he had no sooner felt the warm embrace 
of the Emperor than he had disappeared. 

Half- crazed with the defeat of all his high hopes ; unable 
even yet to feel that his Emperor's " star " had set ; cast down 
by the refusal of the English to let him accompany his mas 
ter into exile ; tenderly commanded by Napoleon to go back 




"DIVING DOWN INTO THE HOLD." 



HOW PHILIP PLAYED THE STOWAWAY 309 

to his sister and his home in Paris, Philip had taken a sudden 
and desperate resolve. 

What were sister and home to him if this man he had so 
long served, reverenced, and worshiped was to be consigned 
to so monstrous a fate ? He would go with his Emperor. 
They should not deny him this. 

In the confusion of farewells and departure, while the 
calm, dignified, and imperial figure of the conqueror was the 
center of all eyes, Philip had slipped from sight. 

Diving down into the hold of the great frigate swiftly and 
unobserved, the boy hid himself among the orderly array of 
stores for the voyage that filled the vessel's hold. Good luck 
the usual " Philip's luck" favored his choice of a hiding- 
place. He had blundered upon a " snuggery," flanked on one 
.side with chests of sea-biscuits and on the other by casks of 
water. " Now, let them find me if they can," he said. " Good- 
by, France ! " 

Philip was bound for St. Helena as a stowaway. 



CHAPTER XXIV 

THE CITY OF REFUGE 

THEEE was a reign of terror in France. The King had 
returned to his own again. The white flag waved over 
the Tuileries once more ; the white cockade was again osten 
tatiously displayed. The Bourbons ruled in France. 

Angry, pitiless, vindictive, the new government includ 
ing, alas ! many of those who had selfishly deserted the man 
who had made them sought to work vengeance on those 
who had been loyal to him. " The White Terror " ran its 
course through France. 

Not so bloody nor so long continued as that greater and 
historic " Reign of Terror " it mimicked, the era of prosecu 
tion and persecution, which had for its badge the white cock 
ade of the Bourbons, fell upon its victims with assassinations, 
arrests, and exile. Brave and devoted Frenchmen who had 
fought and suffered for France, who had contributed to her 
power, and, by their valor, had secured her glory, were 
" listed " for punishments and death by those who had been 
first time-servers and then traitors, or those who had returned 
from exile hating the man who had made France great. 

With a cowardice that was cruelty and a hate that was 
persecution, France, goaded on by royalists and renegades, 
murdered its bravest, exiled its best, and created such a feel- 



THE CITY OF REFUGE 311 

ing of insecurity among those who had supported the plans of 
Napoleon after his return from Elba that many Bonapartists, 
or " brigands " as they were now called, went into voluntary 
exile with the proscribed ones, and deprived France of their 
services and their ability. 

Down the Street of the Fight there came one August day 
in that sad year of 1815 a well-built young fellow of nine 
teen, walking bravely, as if confident of a hearty welcome in 
the house he sought. 

The home was reached. It was closed. No answer came 
to his demand for entrance. No sign of life appeared within 
or about it. Dazed and distressed the young man regarded 
that silent house. A hand fell upon his shoulder. 

" Philip Desnouettes, brigand and Bonapartist, this is no 
place for you." 

It was Philip, indeed. He looked into the face of his ac 
cuser. 

" Where are they, Pierre ? " he asked anxiously, of the one 
who had thus accosted him. 

" Skipped," was Pierre's laconic reply. " Citizen Daunou 
was both republican and Bonapartist. The Bourbons do not 
love him. He was removed from the Archives. He is 
Keeper no longer. He was listed for proscription. He was 
wise, and went into hiding before the bloodhounds got upon 
his trail." 

" And Mademoiselle ? " 

" Gone also." 

" But where ? " 

" Come and see. I have protected them for old time's 
sake," said the clever inspector of police. " I can protect 



312 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

you but only long enough for you to leave Paris. You, 
too, are on the accusing list, ray Philip." 

Then, through side-streets and by roundabout ways, into the 
poorer quarters of the town, even to the Street of the Wash 
erwomen, Pierre conducted Philip, and there, in the old house 
of Mother Therese, Philip found his dear ones. They were 
in hiding refugees from the absurd " White Terror." 

They welcomed joyfully this boy they had almost given 
up for lost. Mademoiselle clung to him; Citizen Daunou 
embraced him; Nurse Marcel showered tears upon him; 
Babette gloried in him; Mother Therese patronized him, 
and Marshal, the big Dane, fawned upon him with the de 
votion of that most loyal of all animals the dog. 

In the joy at his return even their own hardships and 
danger were, for the moment, forgotten. From all came 
the demand for his story. 

" It is but a story of failure," Philip confessed. 

Then he told them how, when but a few hours at sea, 
his hiding-place had been discovered by a prying seaman 
"Bah! that imbecile," Philip cried, in parenthesis, "what 
business had he to blunder upon my retreat ? " how he 
had been dragged out and almost dumped into a passing 
Dutch hoy "May it sink forever for having thus been in 
the way ! " he cried again, in indignant parenthesis without 
even a chance to be seen by the Emperor. 

" But I did get one last glimpse of him, in spite of those 
rascal English and those imbecile Dutch," Philip said. " It 
was after I had been flung into the Dutch hoy. We were 
just casting off from the Northumberland, when the Em 
peror came on deck. In the distance the headland of Cape 



THE CITY OF REFUGE 313 

La Hague rose dimly through the mist. The Emperor rec 
ognized the shore ; he knew it was his last look at France. 
He stretched out both hands toward the misty coast-line 
as if in farewell. I could hear him plainly as he cried : 
'Adieu, land of heroes ! Adieu, dear France ! A few less 
traitors, and you would be mistress of the world!' Alas! it 
was my last sight of his face, my last hearing of his voice. 
For even as I would have cried out my farewell, those pigs 
of Dutch hustled me below, and my Emperor was gone from 
me forever. But not forever ; no, not forever ! He will 
yet return to save France. He will yet return to be again 
the master of the world." 

From Amsterdam, to which the Dutch vessel had carried 
him, Philip said he had made his way into France, hearing 
of the proscriptions, but never dreaming that he or his 
would be marked for revenge. 

" And now," he said, " what are we to do ? " 

" What indeed ? " Citizen Daunou echoed. Plotting and 
planning were never the dear old scholar's work, and in the 
face of his misfortunes he was almost powerless. 

" Listen," said clever Pierre, ever ready with devices. 
"My old chief, the Count Real, late prefect of police, is 
one of the 'brigands' as at headquarters they call all 
Bonapartists now. He is to go to America. I know his 
retreat. So, too, do I know that General Lallemarid, who is 
your friend, my Philip, is gathering a company of exiles to 
sail across the sea to America. Friends there are to arrange 
for land for a colony. Lallemand and his following will 
build, somewhere in the western forests, a city of refuge for 
all Frenchmen in distress; for all driven from their homes; 

27 



314 A BOY OF THE FIEST EMPIRE 

for all who love Napoleon and sorrow over the fall of 
France. Why not join them, you ? " 

" Why not, indeed ? " cried Philip, catching gladly at the 
plan so well suited to his restless nature. " Let us begin 
life again in a free land. What say you, my sister, will 
you go ? And you, my father ? " 

"As for me," said Citizen Dainiou, "I am an old man, 
my children. What matter a few years more ? Let me die 
in France." 

" As for me," said Mademoiselle, wavering between duty 
and desire, " what can I say ? I would go with you, my 
Philip. I would stay with you, my father. What shall I 
do, then ? " 

Here Babette made so startling a suggestion that Pierre 
looked at her closely. He had scarcely noticed her before. 

" Why not all be White Cockaders ? " she said. " It is 
much easier to give in than to stand out." 

Philip caught her by the arm. " What, Babette ! you ? " he 
cried, " you whom the Emperor educated ? " 

Then Mademoiselle followed suit. " What, Babette ! you ? 
You to whom the Emperor promised remembrance ? " 

And Citizen Daunou said, " What, Babette ! you ? you a 
philosopher like Talleyrand and the turncoats ? " 

Whereupon Babette replied, " But where now is this Em 
peror with his education and his promises ? And Talleyrand 
remains yet a prince ! " 

Pierre, the inspector, looked again at this girl with a 
philosophy. 

" Mademoiselle Babette is most sensible," he declared. 
" She has the wisdom that gets advancement. I gained my 



THE CITY OF REFUGE 315 

step through the Emperor. But now he is gone; and I 
I am of the White Cockaders. He who turns his coat has yet 
a coat to wear." 

But Philip could brook no such selfish doctrine. " Better 
no coat," he cried, indignantly, " than a turned one. I make 
no peace with the Bourbons. They are no true French 
men." 

" And your Emperor ? He was but a Corsican," croaked 
Mother Therese. 

"But the proscribed can make no peace," said Citizen 
Daunou. " It is for them only to vanish. My children, I 
go with you." 

So it was settled. In two days Citizen Daunou, with 
Philip, Mademoiselle, and Nurse Marcel, vanished from 
Paris, thanks to Pierre's secret help and hasty preparations. 
Before the month was out they were crossing the Atlantic, 
seeking a home in the new lands of the West. 

Many others fled across the sea. By different routes, 
landing in different ports, more than a thousand of the best 
men and women of France sought refuge in America. 

Of these, a certain number four hundred in all after 
many hardships, after discouragement, privation, disaster, and 
shipwreck, finally reached the haven they had selected, and 
under the lead of General Lallemand, a brave officer of the 
Imperial Guards, and wise old Citizen Daunou, they laid out 
and occupied on the banks of the Eiver Trinity, in the pro 
vince of Texas, their famous City of Eefuge. 

I should like to tell you the experiences of our friends of 
the Street of the Fight as they tried to make for themselves 
a new home, amid strange and baffling surroundings. I 



316 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

could tell you how Philip led an exploring party, and how 
he and his companions would have been poisoned, save for 
the kindly offices of a friendly Indian; how Mademoiselle 
was chased by wild cattle and kidnapped by Spaniards; how 
Nurse Marcel almost married an Indian chief ; how Citi 
zen Daunou was made vice-president of the military re 
public, and how Marshal, the big Danish hound, held at bay 
twenty Spaniards and Indians, and saved the City of Eefuge 
from capture and pillage; 

But this is all quite another story, and has no bearing on 
this tale of the early fortunes of our Boy of the First Empire. 

For our Boy of the First Empire became an American 
citizen. 

"The White Terror" ran its short but sorry course in 
France. Valiant soldiers, like Marshal Key, " the bravest of 
the brave," were murdered; patriots, like Citizen Daunou, 
were exiled. Finally, reason returned. France was ashamed 
of her ungenerous acts. Amnesty was granted, and many of 
those who had come to America because they had been faith 
ful to Napoleon, returned at last to the dear old homeland 
which, in time, honored and exalted the memory of its most 
famous man. 

Among those who returned was Citizen Daunou. He 
never held office under the Bourbons ; but, when he died, 
he left behind him the name of a profound scholar, a thought 
ful writer, with a memory revered by his countrymen as 
that of " one of the purest characters of the Revolution and 
the Empire." 

As for Pierre, he rose to high honors in the police de 
partment of Paris ; and, although he did not reach the goal 



THE CITY OF KEFUGE 317 

prophesied by the Emperor, and become minister of police, 
he did live to be a chief or prefect. And, yes he mar 
ried whom do you think ? Babette. And they were both 
of them loyal to the white cockade until the tricolor again 
came in with the Third Napoleon. 

Philip and Mademoiselle remained in America. When the 
Champ d'Asile, or City of Eefuge, in Texas, was abandoned 
because of the demands of Spain, the brother and sister 
determined to join another French colony, known as "the 
State of Marengo," in Alabama. But they only got as far 
as New Orleans. They made many pleasant friends among 
the French inhabitants of the "Crescent City" so many, 
in fact, that Mademoiselle took one of them for life. She 
married him, and lived and died a lady of New Orleans. 

Philip pushed further north. He went into business in 
Philadelphia, married an American girl, and became a loyal 
and devoted citizen of his adopted country. 

It may not please you to know it ; but the fact is, he suf 
fered so much from hearing Americans try to pronounce his 
unpronounceable name, only to make a terrible mess of it, that 
at last, in desperation, he determined to change or, at least, 
to Americanize it. 

He looked into the matter, and finding that des nouettes 
meant " tiles," he deliberately took the name of Philip 
Tyler; and when he became a man, in the famous days Of 
" Tippecanoe and Tyler, too," Philip was often spoken of as 
" a distant connection of the President." 

But, though he learned to look on things differently as he 
grew older, he never forgot his Emperor. Good American 
citizen though he became, the stirring experiences of his 



318 A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 

youth, when he was a frisky page of the palace in the days 
of the splendid First Empire, were never forgotten by him. 

In a small room in his fine Philadelphia home Philip kept 
what he called his sanctuary. In the center stood a bronze 
statue of Napoleon, draped with the tricolor and surrounded 
with trophies of the days that were gone. And not the least 
interesting of these trophies in his sanctuary were the green 
and crimson suit of a page of the palace and the light-blue 
uniform of a lieutenant of ordonnance. 

Philip mourned the death of Napoleon ; he treasured for 
years an unquenchable hatred against the jailer England 
"perfidious Albion," as he persisted in calling the nation 
which he also spoke of as the " Emperor's murderer." 
Though his preference was for a republic, he still did not 
conceal his joy when, by a questionable method, in the 
middle years of the century, the Bonaparte power came 
again to France ; when, once more, the tricolor waved over 
the Tuileries ; the eagle and the bees returned ; and, at the 
head of the Second Empire, reigned, as Napoleon the Third, 
the brother of the same bright little fellow for whom, in 
days long gone by, Philip had danced " zig-zag " in the great 
park of St. Cloud, on that never-forgotten June morning 
when, beneath the chestnuts, the ragged boy of the Street of 
the Washerwomen first met Uncle Bibiche. 

But he did not wait for that day before returning to 
France. In the year 1840 the world heard great news. 
England yielded up the dead. Napoleon's body was given 
back to France. 

The desire so ardently expressed in the great Emperor's 



THE CITY OF REFUGE 319 

will was at last carried out, and, sailing northward from St. 
Helena, a French frigate bore to France the ashes of the man 
who once held in his shapely hand the destinies of Europe. 

Philip hastened to France. With his eldest son, Philip 
Daunou Tyler, he stood in Paris that December day when, 
with pomp and circumstance, amid tolling bells and boom 
ing cannon and marching soldiers, with the tricolor every 
where and through a double row of imperial eagles, the 
body of Napoleon was borne to the great Hotel of the Inva 
lids the splendid Soldiers' Home in the very heart of 
Paris, the noble building in which dear old Corporal Pey- 
rolles had lived and died. 

Napoleon had conquered. The exile had returned to 
France forever. His bones rest at last where he so greatly 
desired "by the banks of the Seine, among the French 
people I have loved so well." His glory is that of France. 
His fame fills the world. 

As a boy and a Frenchman Philip had gloried in his Em 
peror. As a practical and thoughtful American he learned 
to look deeper and to appreciate what Napoleon really was. 
That he was a despot Philip acknowledged ; that he inflicted 
misery and death upon his fellow-men, Philip could not deny. 
But that his life was really of value to the world, apart from 
its glory and its imperial splendor, Philip also knew. Eaised 
from the people to save them from themselves when terror 
filled the land, Napoleon the Corsican made the France he 
served influential, powerful, and progressive. He remade 
Europe, shed the light of advancement into Russia, gave to 
Germany the idea of national unity that has made her great, 
and awoke Italy to the knowledge that she, too, might be an 



320 



A BOY OF THE FIRST EMPIRE 



undivided nation. By his very despotism he advanced the 
cause of liberty. And since his day the people, learning 
from his wonderful story their own power and strength, 
have given the law to kings and the death-blow to tyr 
anny, so that never again shall liberty be throttled by 
aristocracy nor smothered by the dead weight of a throne. 
And to all this Philip felt he had contributed when, amid 
the splendor of the palace, the gorgeousness of ceremonial 
and fete, the brilliancy of review, and the smoke and roar of 
battle, he had lived the life, and done the duty, and seen the 
sights, and enjoyed the sport of one who exultantly shouted 
" Long live the Emperor ! " as a loyal, vivacious, truthful, 
happy-go-lucky Boy of the First Empire. 




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